Saotome Art Online
by Ozzallos
Summary: Two years. Four-thousand casualties. They would call it the Death Game; a game Ranma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts would unwittingly participate in.
1. Prologue

**Saotome Art Online  
** _By Ozzallos_

 **Prologue**

 _Bright._

 **T** he world was a blinding glare as the girl's eyes fluttered open for the first time in two years. Awareness followed those radiant stabs and she sought to shield her eyes from them with her arm. Even that was a struggle as the very act seemed to sap the redhead of whatever strength she possessed. Still, it was enough and the glare abated even as her confusion grew over the weakness she felt. The girl used her left hand to touch the empty space above her to summon the interface…

…Nothing happened.

She blinked, wondering at the lack of activity until her eyes focused on the hand itself. It was skin and bones, an atrophied parody of the appendage she knew. She turned it over, studying it from a different angle as the reality of situation finally began to dawn upon her. The teen reached up to her head and found not skin or hair, but a helmet. Her fingers caressed the smooth plastic surface for a moment, as if to verify its authenticity.

It was real.

She wallowed in the improbability of the thought for several seconds before slowly pulling the plastic shell away, angling her head to get a better view of wherever it was she had been interned. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the soft lighting and she could focus, finding herself in a room. Wires trailed up from her torso and into a bank of machines, whose digital readouts stood watch over her like sentinels. From her arm a tube wound upward and into a bag of liquid that her intellect recognized as some sort of intravenous feed. She stared at it for a moment before turning her attention to the rest of the largely sterile room that was looking more and more like hospital quarters.

"I'm… back…?"

The words came out as a croak, surprising the owner of the voice only marginally as she began to lift herself to a vaguely upright position. The NerveGear helmet rolled away, clattering against the floor to send sharp spikes against her eardrums. The teenage girl cringed with the racket, clenching at the bed rails as she weathered the temporary cacophony. She willed calm through her body and began to concentrate on motor skills. She started at her hands, flexing her fingers with effort before moving onto the joints of her arm. Even as she was absorbing herself in this new task, the door clicked open.

The redheaded teenager turned, watching as a nurse admitted herself, humming softly. The newcomer repositioned a clipboard in her grasp then looked up, making eye contact for the first time. The gentle smile on the woman's face faded, and wonder took hold in the form of staring. The girl was just opening her mouth to attempt a question when the woman became animated, leaning back out the door.

"Doctor! _Doctor!"_ The girl cringed again at the nurses pitched scream. "We've got another one!"

* * *

 **R** anma Saotome, heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts looked herself over critically, staring at her malnourished reflection in the bedside mirror. The face that had once been the envy of many girls her age had wasted away, giving her features a pale, sunken appearance that spoke of haunted beauty rather than overt vitality. The redhead sighed and reached around to gather the red mane that had grown out over the last two years. She began to work it with unconscious ease into a complex braided crown as her mind drifted through the last two years of memories. It had been a dream, and yet it hadn't. The outside world was calling it the Death Game, but it was- or had been -reality for the six thousand survivors from which she could number herself amongst.

The remaining four thousand of that number hadn't been so lucky. If there had been any doubt before, her awakening confirmed that the creator of the game had been true to his word—those that had died in-game had died a very real death, whether they fell in battle or at the hands of a well-meaning family member attempting to extricate them prematurely.

Ranma's fist clenched until her knuckles turned white, then slowly released them with the reality of the here and now in mind. That man had been defeated and was now beyond her reach… Regardless of how much she desired to administer a second or third helping of ass-kicking.

 _'Or fourth or fifth,'_ The redhead amended, but let the her anger slip in favor of the victory. The evil genius had certainly planned to bleed the survivors further if not for… Ranma smiled slightly as her thoughts drifted to the victory and better times, where they lingered until a polite knock found her door.

"Are you ready, Miss Saotome?"

The slight smile faded. _No_. She most certainly wasn't ready. Not for _any_ of it. Ready or not, however, it was time to face the reality she had involuntarily opted out of for the last two years. She put the final touches on the braid and threw a token nod at the door. "Sure, come on in."

A petite nurse admitted herself, rolling a wheelchair into the modest confines of her hospital room. She parked it beside the bed and dipped down to lock the brakes, only to find her charge already struggling to shift her weight into it.

"Miss Saotome, your condition…!" The nurse rushed around to put a stop to the strenuous activity of her patient, who continued regardless.

"My condition can go take a hike," Ranma huffed as she struggled to coordinate her weakened body while the nurse watched with a disapproving look on her face. Still, she didn't interfere. It was concession she would have to live with since the alternative was watching the girl try and walk on her own two feet. While her spirit was willing, than the flesh was weak and those attempts usually ended on the ground in spite of her caretaker's objections.

Instead, they agreed to a truce.

The martial artist flopped gracelessly into the wheelchair and adjusted herself, smoothing out the simple beige dress she had been given for lack of any other clothing besides a hospital gown. Once comfortable, she gave the nurse a nod and the brakes were unlocked, wheeling Ranma to her fate.

The outside world.

The _real_ world.

The hospital hallway was alive with calm activity, busier now that The Awakening had ran its course. She wasn't the only patient in this wing suffering from the game induced coma and some were worse off than her. She was wheeled past a middle aged man, bound to a wheelchair himself. They made eye contact and he favored her with a friendly nod, one which she couldn't help but to return. Their emasculated forms were a mark of their time inside the virtual world, making for easy recognition of a fellow veteran.

Others weren't so lucky, however. They were still confined to their beds. Still on life support. For whatever reason, their spirit had yet to make the transition back to the real world and their bodies remained bed-ridden. Ranma couldn't help but to frown as she was wheeled down the hallway, glimpsing one such scene in one of the hospital rooms. A family was gathered around the still coma player and something told her the Death Game would claim more victims by the time everything had run its course.

"Now remember, if you feel fatigued at any point, simply let one of us know," The nurse advised as they rounded a corner. "We've tried to keep the press to the side, but—"

"It's Ranko!"

Ranma turned to the name as a wheel chair bound girl no more than thirteen pointed her out with shaky excitement. At some point, the handle she had played under had become as real to her as her given name and the martial artist turned to it just as naturally.

"That's her?!"

"In our hospital!"

"The red hair! Gotta be!"

The hallway down which she was being pushed quieted as the eyes of her fellow gamers were drawn to her person. Occasionally one would reach out in reverence to touch her as she passed while the hospital staff looked on, clearly confused. The occasional murmur of gratitude accompanied her transit and the best she could manage was a polite nod and weak smile in the face of the unnerving attention. The hospital staff watched the scene curiously, but lacked the proper context to decipher what was happening while Ranma's own nurse leaned down with concern.

"Is this…okay?" She probed carefully as she continued to push her ward down the hall toward a pair of double doors. "If you want we can—"

"No…" Ranma shook her head hesitantly, then answered with more resolve. "It's… it's fine. _We're_ fine."

The others heard her words and began to smile. It was a victory to be shared and the survivors took her quiet confidence as their own as she passed. The uncertain nurse merely nodded and continued her push for the double doors. She pressed a largish button and they lethargically swung aside to allow access to another room. Another pair of doors waited and active commotion could be discerned through them.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Ranma shrugged and the nurse favored her with a sympathetic look, then began to roll the girl forward.

The nurse smiled regardless. "They'll be thrilled to see you."

"That's what I'm worried about." The redhead chuckled as they approached the automated doors. They slid open and the noise hit her like a wave front. The modest waiting room was packed full of people waiting for their own reunions. Some of those were already taking place as mothers and fathers fawned over their children while reporters snapped pictures from a roped off area to the side. Across the room, scenes of friends and family being reunited were taking place, though a portion of those cameras capturing the moment began to train on the room's newest attendee. Ranma ignored them and continued searching the room as her own nurse made the announcement.

"Ranma Saotome."

The crushing hug came from out of nowhere; likely already inbound before the words had left the nurses lips. Kimono silk and light jasmine perfume wrapped around the redhead, all but assuring the martial artist of her identity through the half sobbing welcome.

"We thought-! You-! I'm so happy!" Nodoka Saotome cried, all but choking her son-turned-daughter in the process. It took the nurses intervention to save the girl from asphyxiation.

"Good-! To—See-! You-! Too—mom!" Ranma barely managed as the woman's attention continued to smother her while the nurse attending her grew more agitated.

"She's extremely weak right now, Mrs. Saotome," The woman advised, attempting to gently pull the mother back. Something in her words managed to get through and the teary eyed mother contented herself with looking the girl over in concern. Beyond her mother was her father, looking as stoic as ever as he, too, inspected his child.

"How was it, boy?" Genma Saotome asked carefully, to which Ranma could only snort her own sarcastic reply.

"Pretty shitty, Pops," The redhead grinned slightly, shrugging. "But it had its moments."

"Hnn." Was her father's only reply. He crossed his arms, as if to pass judgment. "Getting back to where you were won't be easy."

Her gaze lingered past her father to the various reunions taking place around her. Her smile widened as she turned her attention back upon her parents. "Nothin' worthwhile ever is."

Genma cocked his head curiously at her response and stared for a moment, but patted her on the head regardless. "Good to have you back, son."

"Welcome back, Ranma-kun." Another familiar voice found its way to her ears and Ranma turned to find Kasumi and Soun Tendo waiting expectantly off to the side. Kasumi managed with a slight bow with the greeting, though it was the person behind her that managed to illicit the most surprise out of Ranma. The man stuck out his hand to shake hers. The other remained possessively wrapped around the eldest Tendo sister.

"We were starting to get worried." Doctor Ono Tofu advised as Ranma took his hand, shaking it.

"Yeah, so was I." The martial artist snorted with humor as Soun Tendo came up alongside them with generous smile.

"Good to see you up and about, son," The mustachioed man nodded, jarring the redhead's fragile body with a slap. Ranma smiled for his benefit, but found herself still marveling at the changes a mere two years had brought _. Kasumi and Tofu… A couple at last?_

"Thanks," Ranma returned graciously as she studied the group and those present. More importantly, she was wondering at those who weren't.

"Can we take him outside?" Nodoka asked the nurse, who blinked in confusion.

"Of course," The attendant advised, but allowed her assent with a nod. "But please keep any excitement to a minimum. We'll have doctors standing by if you should need assistance."

Nodoka nodded and glanced down at her daughter, taking the wheelchair in hand herself. Ranma glanced up and gave her nod. The group started toward the hospital main entrance while Nodoka favored the girl with a motherly smile. "So have you been anywhere since waking up, dear?"

"Nah," Ranma shook her head, her head glancing back and forth at the various reunions taking place. "Mostly tests and stuff. Not like I could just get up and walk around, anyway."

"I'm sure you'll make a full recovery." Her mother assured the girl in order to sooth the slight edge of bitterness in her daughter's statement.

"What was it like?" Kasumi asked from behind. It was an innocent question; one that she all but expected to be asked at some point or another. A wellspring of emotion flowed with the answer she had rehearsed, but the redhead suppressed it with a seemingly easy smile.

"It was like... Let's just say it wasn't fun." Ranma shrugged as they approached a pair of sliding doors where the sun waited to greet their party. "The entire thing was rigged to kill you in some way, shape or form. You either sat in the safety of some town or were part of the push to get out."

"Oh my." Kasumi put her hand to her mouth with the no nonsense explanation.

"A game couldn't be that bad… Could it?" Soun wondered aloud, his tone harboring a sufficient amount of doubt to cause Ranma a frown.

"Please." Genma inserted his own doubts into the conversation, as if personally offended by the question meant for his son. "I trained the boy better than that."

Sunlight washed over the redhead, causing her to blink slightly as her eyes adjusted to the natural sunlight and clear blue sky. It was warm and pleasant. The trees were waving with the breeze, green and alive. She glanced around; scanning the immediate area with suspicion until sighting other groups and their wheelchair bound family and friends.

 _'What was the day again?'_ She asked herself absently as she considered the pleasant day around her. _'The 14_ _th_ _? Maybe the 15_ _th_ _of Flamerule?'_

She discarded the unimportant minutia and returned to Soun Tendo's missive as her mother rolled them down the sidewalk. Reporters were interspersed across the grounds, snapping pictures. She paid them little mind.

"Training… _Training_ had nothing to do with it." Ranma admitted weightily. She saw the confused faces on her entourage and composed an answer. "The game strips you of all of that. It imposes its own rules on the body that's created for you. If the game says you can't move faster than a walk, you don't move faster than a walk even if you ran marathons out here in real life. Don't matter if you're a badass martial artist or a nine-to-five salaryman. It's all the same to the rules."

Genma's face clearly emoted distaste, while her mother's was wrapped in confusion. She shook her head, trying to grasp the concept. "But why would anybody submit themselves to that?"

"It's a form of escapism, I would imagine," Doctor Tofu supplied, glancing over to Ranma who confirmed his theory with a nod.

"For some of 'em at least." The redhead continued. "Talked with a few friends about it around the hearth. I figure it's because most people aren't marathon runners. Or martial artists. Most people can't even swing a sword without taking an arm off. Games let them do the stuff they can't."

Kasumi giggled demurely, her hand covering her mouth. Ranma blinked her own confusion at the eldest Tendo, who supplied an explanation to the mild outburst. "You seem to have a slight western accent now, Ranma-kun."

"I do?" The neo-girl cocked her head, trying to analyze her own voice unsuccessfully for the variance. "If you say so, I guess."

"What's a hearth, dear?" Nodoka cocked her head with slight puzzlement of her own.

Now things were getting awkward for the redhead. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she realized the verbal anomaly for herself. "Ah, a big fire pit. Sorry about that."

"Don't apologize, Ranma," Doctor Tofu advised. "All the families were briefed to expect behavioral aberrations due to the level of immersion they experienced."

Ranma nodded, though her face showed some doubt. She let the matter lie with a simple nod.

"It wasn't all bad, was it?" Kasumi asked gently, eliciting a half shrug out of the girl.

"I suppose not," Ranma replied, cocking her head up to view the woman next to her with a slight smile. "It was so realistic that it was pretty easy to believe you were really exploring some fantasy world." She raised her hand, turning her thin arm over as an example. "Could have done without all this, but got to meet some good people along the way."

"At least some good came out of it, dear." Nodoka commented as she pushed her daughter along the sidewalk while the reporters and journalists remained cordoned off to interview those willing to stray close enough.

"Speaking of people, this party is short a few," Ranma noted, glancing back to the group. The slight tensing of her father and Soun's posture didn't go unnoticed. She pretended not to notice Doctor Tofu move slightly closer to Kasumi, filing the reaction away for later analysis as her mother took the question.

"Nabiki-chan is working and Akane will probably back by the end of the weekend," Nodoka explained patiently. Nabiki actually working was a foreign concept in and of itself, and Ranma wasn't sure what to make of the explanation for Akane. The body language wasn't promising in either case, however. The martial artist merely nodded though, as if all was right with the world.

"How about the girls?" She asked, trying to get a feel of what she was waking up to.

"There have been… developments." Her mother continued, her slight hesitation earning Ranma's undivided attention. "The Amazons have… how shall I put this…? Moved on."

Ranma blinked, her gaze drifting between the family members present as she dissected the implications for herself before coming to a singular conclusion. "Back to China?"

Nods greeted her query and the girl blinked with uncertainty. "Okay. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing. Probably good, thinkin' about it. How about Uc-chan?"

"Her father has taken ill." Kasumi advised softly. "She moved back to Nagoya to help him with the family business."

The redhead remained silent for a moment and nodded thoughtfully. "Damn. Nothing you can do about that. Will have to pay her a visit. Kinda surprised ol' Tatewake isn't here spouting poetry, though."

"We didn't advertise our visit." Nodoka smiled, patting her arm affectionately. Ranma chuckled.

"In other words, I'll see him in a day or-" She started to rolled her eyes when movement caught her attention. A handful of reporters seemed to bypass the established lines and were making their way directly for her.

"There's another one!"

"Over here, please!"

"Miss? Miss!"

The call rang out across the courtyard she was being wheeled through. Video equipment was trained upon her before she realized what was happening while microphones were plied to her personal space.

"What was it like inside, Miss?!" One reporter asked frantically, all but pressing against Genma to gain direct access to her. Soun, Kasumi and Nodoka were likewise forced into a ring around the teenager as the reporters began to inundate her with questions.

"Please! A statement!" Another demanded. Cameras snapped in time with bright flashes.

"What level are you?!" Another called out as the flashes gained intensity. Ranma's head whirled around, uncertain which front to engage first through the blinding strobes.

"Did you know Kirigaya Kazuto at all!?" The question came in. Ranma's mouth opened but her vocal chords didn't respond with words. The cameras snapping pictures at her continued to flash and time began to slow for the girl as a new well spring of anxiety began to bubble up from the depths she had been holding such tight control over.

"Did you have to kill anybody in the game?!" The flashes took on a prismatic sparkle in her mind's eye and began to shatter in the same way they did in the game…

 _…When somebody died._

Faces flashed with each strobe, then shattered. Ranma's breath began to quicken. The teen tried to turn away from the flashes but they seemed to form a solid wall around her. The rapid-fire questions were no longer heard, now drowned out by the gunshot sound of her heart beating faster and faster. Another face shattered in polygonal gore.

"Need… I need…" Ranma forced the words out of her unwilling throat, gasping for breath, though it was Doctor Tofu who recognized the signs first.

"No questions!" He hollered in a manner uncharacteristic to his demeanor, then glanced over his shoulder to the confined parents. "Saotome-san. Tendo-san. We need space _. Now_."

Genma Saotome's hand came up and enveloped one of the cameras, pushing its owner away while Soun Tendo began to bodily clear a path for Nodoka, Kasumi and the wheel chair bound redhead. Doctor Tofu continued alongside Ranma, trying to keep her focused.

"I need a physician over here!" The doctor called as Ranma was wheeled clear of the crowd, clutching the chair armrests as she fought the sudden surge of panic.

"I got this… I got this… I got this…" The redhead insisted through the panting, as if trying to will belief into her own body. Nodoka hovered over her in concern, never having seen her child look so frail and vulnerable.

"Ranma?" Her panicked mother pressed, trying to get a coherent reaction from her offspring while the doctors began to work. "Dear, please answer? Dear!?"

Two doctors ran over to the group while hospital security corralled the journalists, escorting them back to their corral with threats of legal action. The sound of tearing Velcro was barely noticed by the girl as a pressure cuff was fitted around her arm.

"Hit her with the benzodiazepine."

A needle came out and was deftly pushed into Ranma's arm other without her even noticing. She was squeezing her eyes tightly shut, trying to force the prismatic horror from her mind's eye and was thankful for the real life voices that continued to intrude upon it.

"Breath… Concentrate on my voice," She identified the speaker as Doctor Tofu. "Just in and out. In and out…"

She wasn't sure how long he repeated those instructions, but her body seemed to take them to heart and her breathing began to slow with a slow tide of relaxation. The flashes began to dissolve over time and she hazarded to open her eyes after several minutes.

She was inside, in another room. Her chest was once more wired to a cart of machinery while two nurses and a doctor stood watch over her vitals. Next to her was Ono himself. It took her a moment to actually work the words from her lips.

"This… this sucks…" She drawled, wallowing in the feeling of detachment separating her brain from the rest of her body.

"It will pass." The doctor assured her. "How do you feel otherwise?"

"Tired." The redhead admitted lazily, then tried to look around. "Where's Mom?"

"In the other room," he assured her, patting her hand. "Is it okay if I let them know you're all right?"

"Sure… I'll be here." Ranma managed through the slur and the doctor smiled.

"I'll be right back, then."

Ranma Saotome was asleep before the ER door closed behind him.

* * *

 **Author's Notes  
** _Merry (belated) Christmas! I know you've been waiting for something with varying degrees of patience, but Job, Kid and a busted laptop in that order have been killing my writing time. Some of you have already seen this. Most of you probably haven't. Almost all of you wish I would probably have worked on something else ;) Alas. i already have this written and I'm hoping I can us it to build up some steam to push the other stuff. Most of the continuity will be based off the light novel with nods to the rewrite if I get around to it. What? Want to help out? Send me a new laptop :p  
_

 **Psychological Trauma** \- One thing that has always annoyed me about SAO is the complete lack of psychological consequences to these players until the Bullet arc of SAO. While I can assure you this won't be an emo-fest, expect me to pay more attention to personal and social consequences more than source material ever did.

 **Categories** \- I dumped this fic in the vanilla Ranma category as opposed to the SAO/Xover category. I feel at this stage, the xover option diffuses the genre too much.

And seriously. Thanks for your patience and understanding with my broken release schedule.


	2. Chapter 1

**Saotome Art Online  
** _By Ozzallos_

 **Chapter ONE**

 ** _Two Years Ago_** **.**

" **H** ow is the fit?"

Ranma Saotome, currently female heir to the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts considered the question and the available responses to it. Most of them had a sarcastic turn to them, but the neo girl moderated them in favor of actually answering the inquiry. For a block of molded plastic and circuitry attached to her head, the helmet was surprisingly comfortable all things being equal. The interior was well padded and cooler than she would have expected. The martial artist shifted on the couch she was lying on, giving the technician to her right a half shrug.

"Not bad." She admitted, prompting a mousy man in a plain white long sleeved shirt and tie to scribble some notes on the clipboard he bore. He swiveled around on the stool he sat upon, setting the board aside in favor of the computer and keyboard he had turned to.

"We had to resize it to your female aspect, so feel free to make adjustments." The tech stated as he began to tap out information into the keyboard. The chatter of keystrokes paused as he glanced back with a slight smile. "Hardware Support wasn't expecting you to come in as a girl today."

"Neither was I." The redheaded sniffed in an unenthused voice. Her fingers found the side of the helmet and began to lightly torque the tension adjustments to ensure a snug fit. "Got splashed along the way and didn't want to be late."

"It's fine." The sandy haired blond nodded as he returned his attention to the flat panel display in front of him. "We were going to work on the female kusarigama animation later today anyway."

"Wasn't that scheduled for next week?" A red eyebrow arched with slight skepticism through the Nerve Gear's tinted visor.

"Argus wants the next wave of content ready before the main public release." The man shrugged, continuing to type as if it were only a minor concern.

"Good thing I brought my own, then." Ranma stated, smirking at the double take she caused. After a moment he nodded faintly at the idea of the girl supplying her own chain-bound sickle before continuing

" _Ahem_. Alright, then. We're coming up." The tech announced with a slight cough as he adjusted the wire framed glasses on his nose, maneuvering the mouse to start the game. He glanced over his shoulder at the girl. "You remember the sequence, right?"

"Pretty intro, accept the terms and conditions, select 'Start'," Ranma recited without enthusiasm. The technician didn't appear to notice; merely satisfied she remembered the basics.

"Your original beta avatar is still available." The Technician added as he monitored the system load. The martial artist eyed him as he continued. "Feel free to use it or roll a new one." He paused, then nodded to himself. "And here we go."

The developer splash screen animated in the space above her, though she knew from experience it wasn't actually there. It was in her mind. All of it was. The screen was replaced and a polite box of text popped up, hanging before her blue eyes.

 _'Whatever,'_ Ranma shrugged mentally, lifting her hand up to the dialogue box in order to indicate her acceptance. It was another aspect of her employment that she had since inured herself to—the legalese. It could pretty much be summed up under the header, "Don't talk to anyone about anything."

She touched 'Accept'.

The text vanished, replaced by the flowing script of the game's title. Behind it was massive, floating tower framed against an orange sunrise. Cloudy wisps floated around the structure, as did several smallish islands that drifted in orbit like satellites around a planet. A grand orchestra piece meant to inspire adventure played in her ears even though the room around her remained silent, punctuated only by the technician's typing. Two buttons faded into existence, though one was grayed out. Her only choice was to select a character.

She touched the box and another nested menu came to the forefront giving her two more options. The martial artist bypassed the one labelled 'Ranko' in favor of creating a new one- Hopefully one that looked like her male aspect this time around as opposed to the scanned image of her body.

 _'Let's see what we can do,'_ She wondered as a mirror was conjured in the air before her, with several other menus floating off to the side. She looked herself over, noting her mirror image lacked the helmet she now wore. Otherwise, it was a perfect representation of the curvy redhead she knew and loved.

Ranma rolled her eyes. _'Yay me._ '

"As you can see, they really worked on the avatar customization." The technician commented, watching her interface duplicated on his monitor. The redhead couldn't help but to agree. The Beta had maybe a handful of menus with which to alter her appearance. The version she was staring at now had literally dozens of them and promised to be a time consuming endeavor. Impatience got the better of her as her interest in recreating her male aspect faded.

 _'Got better things to do than play dress-up,'_ She decided, opting out of the complexity it represented. Her finger drifted to the back key in the upper right corner of the mirror and pressed it, interrupting the pleasant chamber music with a light chime. The mirror rippled and disappeared, restoring the previous menu. She touched the only other option available in order to restore her beta avatar.

The software complied and the menu vanished, once more replaced by the title screen and the floating tower. The 'Start' button was still shaded out, though there was now a timer with roughly seven minutes counting down beside it.

"I've coded your account with limited access to the dev panel," The man advised, clicking the screen a few more times. "About the only thing you can't do is auto level the skill sets, but it's up to you on how you want to evaluate the combat models. Just like before, there's always bound to be a few bugs or improvements to be made, so please log anything you feel is appropriate so we can push it with the next patch."

"Sounds good to me," Ranma nodded agreeably now that she was back on familiar turf. She glanced at the countdown. In five minutes, thirty three second she could get down to business and do the job she had been railroaded into. All in all, it could be worse. She could be working for an old crone serving up noodles. Or tied up in some inane martial arts challenge. The possibilities were endless, really, which made this one the lesser of many, _many_ evils.

 _'…Like working for an old crone serving up noodles_ during _some inane martial arts challenge.'_ She snarked mentally, counting herself lucky this once.

"The system is in stand alone mode." The company rep nodded with a final click, glancing down at his companion as he stood up from the chair. "She's all yours, Saotome-san. Don't forget to enjoy yourself while you're in. There's bound to be all sort of special events going on."

"I'll try not to." She smirked, causing the tech to shake his head at her dry sense of humor. A pleasant chime in her ears drew her attention to the timer, and she noted it aloud. "Thirty seconds. See ya in a bit, Machi-san."

The man smiled back, removing himself from the smallish room to seal the redhead in. Her blue eyes watched the timer that real didn't really exist as it counted down from ten. The number zero replaced it moments later and it vanished. The icon to Log In illuminated in full. Ranma nodded to herself and reached up to press the button.

 _'Time to get to work.'_ She decided, touching it.

The moment her finger touched the button the world flared with color. Rays of prismatic light engulfed her vision, as if her very consciousness was being sucked down a radiant tunnel. It was simultaneously a familiar, yet alien experience to the redhead whose employment required her to undergo the Full Dive regularly. The lights weren't in her eyes. They were in her _mind,_ alongside the disconcerting feeling of sensory deprivation as the system took over that aspect of her being.

Ranma suppressed the swell of concern that came with each dive, knowing that the experience was a necessary evil and that would be over almost as quickly—

 _Aincrad._

The redhead's five senses snapped back into focus as her consciousness rematerialized exactly where it was intended to. Sights and sounds washed back into focus, and the redhead blinked, taking in her new surroundings. Freshly baked dough wafted across her nostrils and the atmosphere was alive with excitement as new players mingled around her. The prismatic bursts of their arrival flashed at regular intervals as they logged on in waves for the launch of the game.

She glanced down at her person and largely what she had expected to find—Herself. The clothing left a little to be desired, consisting of little more than a drab blouse that allowed one a mere peak at the bosom beneath and a modestly cut dress. The martial artist sighed to herself, but let the annoyance pass. It was all gender based. No matter what she wore, it would conform to the gender of the player and there was no changing it.

Fortunately, it was just as real as everything around her so she discarded the fact and the festivities around her. Unlike those celebrating, she was on the clock. Ranma's finger touched the air beside her, summoning the game's spherical interface, sifting through the menus until pulling up her character sheet, then her skills. It was all barebones with none of the advancement featured in her beta character. To her, it was inconsequential. She touched another option and the word 'DEV' illuminated in soothing blue in the upper right hand corner of the interface.

 _'There we go,'_ Ranma nodded to herself, oblivious to the jubilant crowd. Two of her character's initial skill slots were already present. She would gain her third at level eight, the next at level sixteen and so on. The redhead, however, had a job to do and gave the small 'plus' button that had appeared next to their menu bars one press, then another. She contemplated giving the button one more delicate press, but shook her head. Four was enough for now.

Her finger traced along the interface, giving rise to another display. Like her character sheet, her inventory was all but empty save a single, beaten sword. It was the same sword everybody started with. The martial artist considered it blandly but shrugged, pulling it from inventory. The tarnished steel sprang to life in her hand and she tested the weight. It felt badly unbalanced as she twirled it in hand.

 _'Gotta start somewhere, I guess.'_ She conceded and returned her attention to the console. She banished the now empty inventory window and found her character's skill slots once more. One was labeled 1H SWORD but it was grayed out, as if they system hadn't decided it was hers yet. The second she touched, creating a drop down menu with myriad of skills and weapons listed. She scrolled through it and selected one with the light touch of her index finger. SCYTHE filled the empty field, but unlike the first, was anchored in firm bold lettering. The next menu was selected and the long curvature of its blade was conjured into existence within her inventory.

Her index finger found slot number three next to it, manipulating the drop down in kind. A warhammer. Ranma selected the entry and a long necked Warhammer likewise materialized, then chose another. A Katar complete with a hand hold and broad, flat blade spawned. Ranma gave her efforts a slight nod. _'Exotic weapons evaluation, check.'_

With that last thought, she banished the window with a swipe of her hand and set out across the massive courtyard of the Starter Town's main coliseum. Ranma gave the sword a reflexive twirl that betrayed none of its questionable balance and banished it back to her inventory with a new mission in mind. She followed her nose and toward the wonderful smell of baked goods, finding new players purchasing food from a line of NPCs.

She paused at the head of the line. Her face took on a forlorn pout that guaranteed to inflict sympathy upon anybody who looked upon it. Predictably, somebody did and came to her aid.

"Hey, cutie, you alright?" The man had a pale white complexion with spikey bleached blond hair. His gray eyes watched with concern as the redhead sniffled slightly.

"I… No, it's okay." Ranma shook her head, shuffling in place. The blond didn't look convinced.

"Come on, what's on your mind?" He pressed and those pitiful blue eyes turned upon him like spotlights of guilt.

"I don't know how any of this works!" She confessed dramatically. "They smell so good but I don't know how to get one and they're making me really hungry!"

"Well, that's easy to fix." The guy's chest puffed out with a wide, overeager smile. "I'll show you. Watch this."

"What do you have?" The blond asked of the NPC vendor, who look much like an overweight Italian chef. A small menu system appeared above the NPCs head, denoting his inventory. The teen glanced back to Ranma. "When you address an NPC, he or she will open up an inventory window to make the transaction."

He began to scroll through the open window and found what he was looking for. "Two pork buns, please."

The system construct spoke again, his features emoting a smile. "That'll be twenty col."

Ranma's mark reached over and simply shook the NPC's hand and the window above them denoted the transaction taking place. The computer generated construct nodded kindly. "Thank you! Come again!"

"And that's all there is to it," The player nodded with satisfaction, then handed one of the pork buns over to the girl next to him. She seemed to leap out of her skin with gratitude.

"Oh, thank you thank you!" Ranma all but squealed, taking his hand while jumping up and down.

"No problem," He smiled graciously, then grew a tad self-conscious, scratching his head. "Say, I don't suppose you would like to form a party with me? I could show you—"

"I'm going to go tell all my friends about this nice person I met!" The redhead's sheer excitement overrode his hesitant request. She flashed him another million watt smile and bounced away back into the crowd from which she came, leaving the player blinking.

He couldn't have known Ranma's friends list was completely empty.

* * *

 **T** hirty minutes and four pork buns later, Ranma Saotome was dancing gracefully through the knee high grass of a field. Tarnished steel flashed in the sunlight as the redhead stepped through a kata that bore an uncanny resemblance to several in the game combinations. The girl continued to put the starter blade through its paces for several minutes until pausing slightly, adding a subtle sweeping motion to her movements.

The game took over.

Her limbs magically lightened as an invisible force tugged at them like a puppet. It was control she hated giving up, but it was a necessary evil; one she had submitted herself to many times before through the course of her testing. The beat up sword's blade glowed brightly and the attack came, pulling her forward through the air in a blur that would have theoretically applied massive damage to anything in front of her had a target actually been present. Instead, she merely slide to a halt and her body froze.

 _'…And the Post-motion,'_ She identified the physical impotence she was now subjected to with slight irritation, impatiently waiting the combat mechanism out until control was returned to her body. She gave the blade a reflexive twirl and returned it to its scabbard. With the warmup complete, Ranma glanced around the field as her priorities shifted. She spotted a boar grazing less than thirty meters away and smiled. _'Now for some live targets.'_

Relatively speaking.

Still, it looked real in every sense of the word, as did the world around her. From the smell of the grass tickling her nose to the light breeze tugging at her blouse, it was virtually impossible to tell where the game ended and reality began. She paused for a moment, taking it all in. The sky was crystal blue with wisps of clouds lapping at the horizon. Occasionally she would pick out land amongst the clouds; literal islands in the sky that drifted around the central tower as if exempted from the laws of physics. It was as if she had been dropped into a new world to explore, something she had found surprisingly appealing.

The moment of admiration passed and her attention returned to her target. The game sensed her focus and a transparent orange placard faded into existence above the swine, labeling it "feral warthog". A green bar stretched beneath the title, indicating its total health. Ranma walked up to the neutral mob, contemplating its fate as its snout foraged through the grass. An occasional snort accompanies its efforts and Ranma smiled, bring the sword back for the initial stroke…

SmaCK!

 _"BWEEeeeeEEE!"_

She applied the flat of the blade to the pig's flank, causing it to squeal, skittering away in panic before finally reacting to its tormentor's presence. The swine grunted a challenge, lowering its head while digging a shallow gouge in the earth. Assured that its attack was imminent, Ranma gave the pig a cocky smile and brought the sword to bear.

 _'Let's see if they've tightened up your hitboxes any,'_ The redhead thought at the pig. As if privy to them, the hog charged, covering less than ten meters inside two seconds. Ranma sidestepped as quickly as she could- or _thought_ she could -and felt the artificial weight of the system's combat mechanics slow her down in accordance to her avatar's stats. As a result, she wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the tusks that threatened to gore her and took a glancing blow to the shoulder as it galloped past, sending her stumbling. A fifth of her hitpoints staggered with it, but she managed to remain upright, watching as the pig pranced around in triumph.

Ranma gave it an accusing glare, but summoned her player interface. Something was missing from the attack. She dug through the menus and quickly found the option she was looking for. Her finger brushed the slider bar labeled pain offset, setting it to zero, then banished the interface entirely. She crooked an unfriendly smile for the pig.

"Round two, bacon breath." The redhead muttered as she beckoned the pig forth with her left hand. The right hand set the sword up for its retribution. The pig seemed to oblige her request and lowered its head, gouging the earth with its hoof. The breeze caressing the fields of grass and the hog charged. This time Ranma timed her dodge precisely and drifted out of the way of the boar's tusks, delivering a precision strike to the back left haunch. The slice glowed iridescent red and the animal squealed in protest as it stumbled out of reach, limping about for another pass at her. It loped in once more, this time slower and unsteadily. The point of Ranma's sword was waiting and she stabbed at into its flank.

The pig's HP dropped to nearly half this time, but it still managed to rake the girl with its tusk as it passed. Ranma rolled away, clutching her side in real pain, but the grin was still affixed to her face. She rolled up and to her feet, her hit points now halfway depleted.

Her ribcage throbbed but the martial artist ignored it, focusing on the pig. It snorted in challenge and lined up on the girl. Ranma held the sword to the side nonchalantly and waited. The warthog took the matter more seriously and barked out a loud grunt before lunging forward. This time the redhead's dodge was perfect. The hog raced by and she targeted the same section as before, plunging the blade into its ribs three centimeters to the right of the last strike.

The word _'CRIT!'_ flashed overhead and the pig lost balance, tumbling away as its hit points dropped to zero. It staggered unsteadily, then flopped over, exploding in a fount of polygons. Ranma compiled her observations as she strolled over to the site of its demise, picking up a pouch that had formed in the wake of the NPC's death. The moment she palmed it, a menu materialized.

 _'Two col and a ragged tusk, woo-dee-doo,'_ Ranma snorted derisively at the paltry drop, but committed it to her inventory regardless with the clench of her fist. The pouch dissipated into sparkles, but her eyes were already elsewhere scanning the field for her next victim. Several more swine seemed to graze contently on the peaceful hillside a short walk away and the martial artist decided they would do just fine.

She began the trek, sheathing the sword while manipulating the menu to the next weapon in line. Ranma's one-hander dematerialized into sparkling glitter as a new weight fell upon her back. The redhead reached back and pulled at the long neck of a Warhammer. She gave it a reflexive twirl, then paused with a frown. _Balance_. In a word, it sucked. The martial artist studied the shaft and the massive rectangular block attached to the end. She knew that higher level examples of the crude weapon would get better, but there was a strength requirement to wielding them competently, regardless… At her suggestion, ironically. And for good reason- While it had no piercing or slashing damage, the Warhammer was capable of producing double damage values on unarmored targets and had a vicious stun proc that could be lethal if spec'd properly.

Realistically, players wouldn't see the weapon she now balanced over her right shoulder for another five levels. It simply wasn't available in the starting zones by design for balance reasons, but it was also a mess the last time she had handled it. Whereas the common one handed sword had been tested into the ground by nearly every player at one time or another, the hammer was normally overlooked as slow and comparatively lacking in DPS.

 _'And that's cuz it is,'_ Ranma sniffed with slight humor. But then, it wasn't made to produce raw DPS. According to the designers she had talked to, it was originally envisioned as a crowd control weapon and she had done her best to offer input in that direction. The redhead continue to amble toward a trio of pigs foraging in close proximity to one another while sparing a glance at her health bar. It had predictably made the quick climb back to one hundred percent, which was the low level norm she had expected. At higher levels, HP would replenish at a snail's pace, necessitating either medical assistance, a potion, or crystal.

 _THwaaAK!_

The impact of the Warhammer blindsided the first boar as she leapt in upon them, then let the momentum of the weapon's weighted head naturally carry her through into the next target. The third animal was beyond her reach, but the attack on its brethren incited it to aggression nonetheless. Ranma frowned even as she pulled the Warhammer back into a defensive position to deflect the first pig's attack. Its tusk ground against the hammer's shaft but ultimately forced its way past her defense. Still, the attack was reduced by fifty percent and she ignored the biting pain that accompanied it.

 _The momentum was off_. She knew the momentum was off because she had actually handled the warhammer's equivalent in real life. The second pig attempted to gouge the martial artist but she produced a fluid sidestep that she counted more as luck than overt skill. There was no skill in the numbers unless one were skilled in making those numbers work for them.

Ranma Saotome had become well acquainted with the numbers that drove the combat behind the scenes.

The third pig galloped into range and met the head of the Warhammer straight on, causing it to stumble and lurch drunkenly. The redhead watched the STUNNED status float over the boar's head as the hammer processed its unique ability. Ranma mentally nodded her approval and went to work on the initial pair of hogs, twisting through the arc of attack once more. Two more meaty hits halved their HP even as they attacked in kind. The proc wore off the third a second later and she was once again facing a three-pronged attack. This time, however, they were right where she wanted them.

The neogirl stepped back quickly and drew back the Warhammer, reversing its position in her grasp. The combat engine suddenly took over and pulled her into a dizzying whirlwind led by the hammerhead itself. Everything for five meters around her was suddenly targeted indiscriminately as she twist through a barely controlled pirouetted that ravaged the hog's hit point values. By the time the post-motion had pulled her back to a halt, three pigs lay around her, dissolving in a polygon pyre.

Ranma admired her work, then shrugged, pulling up the interface scratch pad. Her fingers picked across the holographic keys as she entered her observations, then banished it upon completion. Much as she would have liked to have attributed the three kills to her own skill, she had lost nearly seventy five percent of her own health in the process. Employing a level five weapon against level one and two pigs wasn't exactly something she was proud to take credit for.

Five more boars only confirmed her observations. Ranma stared at the weapon in her hand critically even as the last dissolved into sparkles, her gaze tracing the beaten stone head that comprised the majority of its mass. Its weight was correct, but somewhere along the way that weight wasn't translating into proper physics.

 _'Hell, they might not even care,'_ She acknowledged silently, reminding herself of some of the other advice that had been discarded for expediency sake. For example, you didn't just flip a dagger end over end through the air to throw it. The developers like the animation, however, and even she had to admit that most people probably wouldn't know the difference anyway. In the end, the martial artist mentally shrugged the concern off as she tilted the hammer back over her shoulder to dismiss it. She was getting paid in either case, which would keep Nabiki off of her back in turn.

A distant squeal pulled Ranma's attention from the Tendo's mercenary tendencies to scan the horizon. Movement caught her eye and the neogirl watched as a pair of players engage their own herd of pigs on the next hill. A quick glance noted the green markers floating over each player's' head, assuring her they weren't criminals…

 _'…Yet,'_ Ranma hedged even as she conceded how stupid one would have to be to become a player killer at the tender age of level one. Still, it was possible. She had witnessed players do all sorts of dumb things to test the limits in closed beta. In any case, the two appeared to be up to their eyeballs in swine and thus posed no threat to her or her work.

The redhead's thoughts turned to her next weapon. The game sensed the movement of her hand and summoned her inventory where the scythe waited. Like the Warhammer, it had issues. Unlike the Warhammer, everything about the scythe was rooted in fiction.

The martial artist frowned as she considered it. Somewhere along the way, somebody had thought it would be a great idea to turn what was, in fact, a farm implement into a weapon for the game. Ranma, in turn, assured them it _wouldn't._ The rule of cool once again won the day, however, leaving her with the task of developing a coherent combat style for a tool used to harvest crops.

Ranma's missive turned to a slight smirk as she recalled the debacle's outcome. Finding a scythe had been surprisingly easy thanks to a quick run-in with Mousse. In fact, she had left that particular brawl with a surplus of edged weaponry to use as practical references, though the porcelain white kitchen sink was deemed largely unnecessary to her research efforts and thus remained behind with the comatose Amazon. Even so, it was still a scythe, and the best she had been able to achieve so far was a combat style consisting of concentric, circular movements and pulls in order to keep the blade in play. With that thought in mind, Ranma couldn't help but to openly chuckle in reminiscence. Even though there were better tools for the job, she had managed to take a largely irrelevant farming tool and turned it into a viable combat weapon… And in the process caused a work stoppage within Content Development as they openly gaped at the kata she had developed for it.

The smile lingered on the girl's lips as her fingered neared the weapon's selection, then paused. Ranma cocked her head curiously and her finger drifted away from the scythe in favor a newly realized conundrum.

"Where the hell'd the log out button go?" She mumbled aloud, her index finger caressing the part of the interface window it used to occupy. The martial artist blinked, as if doing so would restore the option. It wasn't simply grayed out. It was _entirely gone._ Only an empty box remained where the option had once resided, perplexing the neogirl further.

 _'That's one hellva bug,'_ Ranma thought to herself and was just considering her next course of action when a voice called out from her right.

"Hey! Hey there!"

The martial artist blinked and the menu faded as her attention was pulled away toward a man jogging through knee-high grass toward her. Ranma's gaze reflexively flicked up to his green name once more just to reassure herself of his continued good behavior.

"You… You can help us out, right?" He managed between gasps and Ranma still couldn't help but to marvel how the game modelled exhaustion and fatigue. She knew he was feeling it just as assuredly as she had felt it all throughout the closed beta development stages.

"Jeez, Obito!" The player behind him slowly caught up at a more leisurely pace, shaking his head. "You just don't run up to another player you don't know like that." He turned an apologetic smile on the redhead and bowed slightly. "We just saw you from the hill. Sorry about that."

"Yeah, no worries." The martial artist shrugged as she studied the pair. Like herself, both were still in their starter tunics, all but assuring her of their level. The panting one was the epitome of the pretty boy, sporting a mane of spiky blond hair. The other's sandy brown styling was more sedate in keeping with his age, undoubtable idealized if past experience was any indication.

"Come on. Nobody PKs at level one." The blond glanced back as he rolled his eyes. When he turned back to the redhead, his eyes instantly dropped to the giant Warhammer that had materialized in her left hand, then the lazy smile on her face. His humor turned to uncertainty. "Um, right?"

"You'll have to forgive him, too. He's a nooblet." The second of the pair smirked, patting his partner on the head, who railed against the comment in turn.

"You're just as new as me!" The blond stated testily, to which his brown haired companion shook his head.

"At least I read the FAQs." The older of the pair folded his arms across this chest imperiously.

"Then I don't suppose the FAQs told you why there isn't a logout button, huh, genius?" The first player leaned into his partner's face, but it was the girl next to them who was caught by surprise.

"You too?" Ranma blinked, her question instantly quelling their argument. Both sets of eyes turned on her and the redhead merely nodded, recalling the menu and tracing the circular interface to the dead end.

"Well that's not good." The brown hair man frowned, tracing through his own menu to the similarly missing feature. "I thought it was just us."

"Same." The Saotome stated, then backtracked through the menu. "I guess there is always a GM request."

Her finger was millimeters from touching it when she saw the blond shaking his head. "Tried it. No answer yet."

Ranma gaze flicked to the second player, who merely nodded his own confirmation of the fact. Her study returned to her menu in confusion. No log out button, No GM assistance. She had a developer panel, but equipped with only the most basic of access—just enough to add weapons and skills per her job description and that was it. There was only one course of action she could come up with.

"We just play until they fix it." She replied casually as if it were her job to play the game. It just happened to be exactly that, which suited her just fine. It was the excitable pretty boy that objected, however.

"But I've got night classes!" The blond whined, prompting a patient sigh from his partner as the low gong of a bell began to echo from the west.

"This sort of stuff happens all the time." He shrugged, seemingly without concern. "Oracle Online was famous for unannounced patching and server crashes. I wouldn't be surprised if they force logged everybody in a few—"

The man was suddenly engulfed in a bright blue whirlwind that utterly consumed his person, leaving the blond and the redhead staring at the vacant spot he had just inhabited. Ranma came to the most obvious conclusion available.

"Guess there's nothing to worry about after all." She observed, deciding that brown haired player's prediction had come to pass. The blond was just opening his mouth when the neon blue pillar swirled around him as well, removing him from her presence. Ranma smirked with a chuckle. "Women and children first, I guess."

And then it was her turn.

The familiar brilliance of teleportation gusted around her and she closed her eyes. Experience had showed her that these weren't her real eyes and they would be sensitive to the light once she was returned to the waking world. It was yet another facet of real life the game simulated with absolute fidelity. The tempest peaked around her and…

…Voices. A crowd. The loud gong of the town bell. Ranma's eyes snapped back open at the unexpected stimulus and found herself standing in the grand coliseum of the Starter City. The redhead glanced around herself and found a multitude of players in their starter gear, each looking at the other in search of answers while yet more teleported in around them. Blue flares of light marked dozens of new arrivals per second at their peak, only to slowly taper off until there was barely enough room for personal space.

Ranma stood by, scanning the crowd for a familiar face, finding nothing familiar and only confusion in those around her. Clearly nobody else had been expecting the event either. The loud reverberation of the tower bell finally faded, leaving only curious chatter…. And then gasps as an elongated hexagon of red light materialized in the sky above them. It began to blink ominously with the word 'WARNING' etched within before being joined by more scarlet indicators that began to blanket the sky until forming a dome over the coliseum in which they all stood.

Blood began to ooze through the seams of the individual hexagons.

At first the long, viscous trails of crimson looked like it would rain down upon the players, but it coalesced into globs just above their heads, crackling with lightning to form an enormous red cloak to hang around an individual comprised of shadows. Speculation drifted through the crowd, but it was the guess of an in-game event amongst the murmuring that caught the martial artist's attention. Machi's advice was remembered and the redhead sniffed her amusement over what was looking to be an elaborate show for the new players.

"Attention Players." The cloaked figure raised his arms grandly as its hooded face looked down upon them. "Welcome to my world. My name is Kayaba Akihiko."

Ranma's attention focused with the familiar voice; recognition that was quickly confirmed by the name itself. He was the driving force behind Sword Art Online from the world itself to the tech behind it. She knew because she had met the man, however briefly. He seemed to appreciate her contribution to his creation and she, in turn, appreciated his recognition of her expertise.

 _'…Oughta be interesting, at least._ ' The redhead thought to herself as he continued.

"As of this moment, I am the sole person who can control this world." The floating giant stated direly. "I'm sure you've already noticed that the logout button is missing from the main menu… But this is not a defect of the game."

The entire coliseum watched as he manipulated his own scale model of the SAO interface to illustrate the point and for the first time, the martial artist below felt uneasy with the doctor's admission. "I repeat, this is _not_ a defect in the game. It is a feature of Sword Art Online."

Ranma's hand rose reluctantly in accordance to the nagging sense of danger that was growing louder in her head. Her own interface was summoned with the gesture, fading into existence before her. Unlike the others around her, she wasn't looking for the log out button. She was looking for something else entirely…

…Her developer console access.

Like the log-out button, it was now completely absent.

"You cannot log-out of SAO yourselves and no one on the outside can shut down or remove the NerveGear," The cloaked figure advised as worried missives continued to ripple through the crowd below. "Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the NerveGear will emit a powerful microwave pulse, destroying your brain and thus ending your life."

 _'My boss is a goddamn psychopath,'_ Ranma Saotome realized, now only half listening as an icy pit developed in her stomach. Friends and acquaintances trying to kill her may have been well worn ground for the martial artist, but she had actually _helped_ this one. The redhead clenched her jaw with the wave or righteous indignation. Her finger manipulated the interface to bring up her own personal character sheet, finding the four skill slots she had previously opened up now reduced to the same two every new player started with. The most powerful advantage she had to start with had just been undercut.

"Unfortunately, several player's friends and families have ignored this warning and have attempted to remove the NerveGear." The avatar of Kayaba Akihiko reported in the same dispassionate tone he had started with. Rama's finger called up her inventory as he spoke, then paused as her attention was morbidly drawn back to the red cloak and his horrible revelation.

"As a result, two hundred and thirteen players are gone forever, from both Aincrad and the real world." Horrified gasps of disbelief and denial were his response, but he continued nonetheless in order to drive the point home.

"As you can see, news organizations across the world are reporting all of this, including the deaths," The doctor returned as live feeds were called into existence around him. "Thus, you can assume the danger of a NerveGear being removed is now minimal. I hope you will now relax and attempt to clear the game."

 _"Like hell I well."_ Ranma growled to herself as she picked through the meager arsenal that represented his ass-kicking. It wasn't much: One sword; the same one everybody started with and thus worthless. One Warhammer, now minus the skill to use it. One scythe, whose skill was still intact simply because it was occupying one of the two starter skill slots. The Katar fell into the same category as the Warhammer—Useless unless she wanted to sacrifice the one-handed sword or scythe skill. After that, she had little to her name. One hundred and thirteen col, three boar hooves and one mangled—

"But I want you to remember this clearly: There is no longer any method to revive anyone in the game." The cloaked figure floating above her stated, outlining the newest condition of their captivity.

 _'Yeah, saw that one coming,'_ Ranma commented derisively from her thoughts, having all but expected some variation of the new rule. In essence, he was going to use her expertise to help kill every last player in the coliseum. The neo-girl stared a hateful hole up into the floating avatar. She shook her head, trying to tune out the murderous nut-job above her in deference to forming a plan.

"If your HP drops to zero, your avatar will be lost forever and the NerveGear will simultaneously destroy your brain." The doctor continued regardless. "There is only one means of escape- To complete the game."

His hand manipulate the interface and a graphic materialized in the space before him, it's light blue structure indicating the path upward through the world that was now the home of the nine thousand, seven hundred and eighty seven players below.

"You are presently on the lowest floor of Aincrad, Floor One," He explained as pink vertical pathways were added to the graphic. "If you make your way through the dungeon and defeat the floor boss, you may advance to the next level. Defeat the final boss on floor one hundred and you will clear the game."

Ranma's fingers slipped back to her own menu, returning to the character sheet to select the one handed sword skill. It was highlighted, and she pressed the red 'X' symbol next to it. A new dialogue box popped up.

[DISCARDING SKILL; ALL PROGRESS WILL BE LOST. ARE YOU SURE?]

"Finally, I've added a present from me to your item storage." The red robed avatar offered as she worked. "Please see for yourself."

Ranma touched the confirmation button to the query.

[SKILL DISCARDED.]

The redhead's fingers swiped back to the inventory to find a mirror now sitting alongside her meager possessions. The martial artist frowned visibly at the good doctor's gift, already knowing from experience that no good could come of it.

 _'No way in hell I'm touching that.'_ She thought to herself, closing out her inventory even as others reached for theirs. She watched them pull out a small square mirror that looked perfectly benign until swallowing its bearer in blue streamers of neon energy. Yells of surprise met the eruptions of light as one player after another fell victim to the gift. When the blue fire finally died, the player was invariably left changed. Ranma wasn't sure what exactly had happened until the majority of the populace around her had already been taken by surprise.

 _'It's their real selves…?'_ The neo-girl speculated, noting how the overwhelming number of flawless youth around her had fallen victim to age. Genders shifted as well, and much as she wanted to take humor in it, part of her knew the situation was only going to get worse before it got better. As if to underscore the fact, the floating madman spoke again.

"Right now you're probably wondering, "Why?" …Why would Kayaba Akihiko, developer of Sword Art online and the Nerve Gear, do all this?" The doctor asked rhetorically.

"Because yer bat-shit crazy?" Ranma mumbled aloud as he continued.

"My goal has already been achieved." The cloaked avatar explained. "I created Sword Art Online for one reason: To create a world and intervene in it… And now, it is complete. This ends the tutorial for the official Sword Art Online launch. Good luck, players."

The redhead watched as the Kayaba's cloud dissolved into scarlet gas, floating back up and absorbed by the red dome overhead. The crimson sky held for another moment, then vanished; replaced by the fading light of sunset strewn across an orange-yellow canvas of scattered clouds. Silence gripped the stadium for almost thirty whole seconds before pandemonium broke out with a single, girlish scream.

Ranma continued to stare at the open sky for another moment as panic swelled around her before simply nodding, as if to acknowledge his challenge. The martial artist calmly turned away and threaded through the mass of hysteric players. The battlefield was different, but the situation was one Ranma had encountered too many times to count. She was through the crowd and out of the stadium in under a minute, calmly walking out into the streets now alive with panicking players. They weren't her concern.

 _The system was._

Here, it was her most lethal opponent. Here, her entire existence was determined by numbers. Here, she couldn't rely on being a bad ass martial artist to save the day. Truth be told, _it scare the hell out of her_.

 _'…And I was just startin' to like this job.'_ She thought to herself bitterly as she crossed the street. Even so, her situation wasn't hopeless. She had quite literally helped develop the combat systems for most of the weapons in the game and if he was going to use that knowledge against the players, she was damn well going to use it right back at him. Ranma knew what worked, what didn't and what would keep her alive long enough to kick Doctor Kayaba Akihiko's ass in real life.

Somehow she knew that he was out there… _Somewhere._ He had an entire virtual world to "intervene" in, after all, and Ranma suspected he wasn't going to just sit on his hands and watch it as an idle observer. The man had gone through too much trouble for _just_ that. Regardless, there was still one, singular constant through all of it…

…Ranma Saotome didn't lose.

The neo-girl turned down a side street and entered the uncharacteristically empty market, approaching a vendor. This one was middle aged man who wore an eyepatch to match the leather apron tied to his torso. The NPC responded immediately to her presence. "What shall it be today, Miss?"

"Need to sell this crap." She replied and a context window sprang to life, allowing her to select the aforementioned crap to be off-loaded. Nothing she had was particularly valuable, but it would be enough for the next step. Her finger slid over the Sword, Warhammer, Katar, hooves and mangled boar's skin, authorizing their sale. The mirror, however, refused to be sold by helpfully advising her thus. Twenty five Col was deposited into her inventory purse moments later as she continued. "Weapons."

"Best in Starter City, if I may say so." The NPC piped helpfully. Ranma ignored him as her finger traced its way over the various items. She found what she was looking for and touched the selection twice.

[TONFA(2) SELECTED. PURCHASE FOR 100c?]

The redhead hit the green checkbox and the items were delivered directly to her inventory. Still, she wasn't quite done, and turned away from the vendor even as he thanked her for her purchase. She had the weapons, but the skill slot still sat empty, awaiting its training from a recognized professional. That particular NPC awaited her in the Palisade District and Ranma altered her course.

It was time to get back to work.

* * *

 **Author's Notes**  
 _One of my biggest challenges in this story is giving Ranma a chance to shine without completely dumping SAO kanon. Kirito's role is so central to his story that I can't just nudge him aside without changing the entire outcome, which I've never been excited to do. Suffice to say I've found a role of importance for Ranma without displacing Kirito from the equation._

 **Content Advisor:** A rather novel way to get Ranma into SAO if I do say so myself. I couldn't think of too many other ways and while Ranma in without leaning on some random chance contest to which I still couldn't see him getting too enthusiastic about.

 **Timelines:** Yep, I screwed with them.


	3. Chapter 2

**Saotome Art Online**  
 _By Ozzallos_

 **Chapter TWO**

 ** _The Present_**

 **H** ospitals were hardly an unknown for Ranma Saotome. Having been the only child growing up under her father's tutelage, reckless techniques were learned, corners were cut, and bones invariably broken in his- currently her -endeavor to be the best martial artist alive. The last time she had seen this particular hospital had been courtesy of Pink and Link, their giant carnivorous plant and…

Ranma paused her transit of the parallel bars, her gaze gaining a faraway look that had nothing to do with the physical therapy session she was currently engaged it.

…And that had been over two years ago. Two _long_ years ago. Before the game. Before she had been forced to grow up. Before...

 _'Before a lot of things,_ ' The redhead silently acknowledged as the oppressive weight of her experiences was felt once more. She wasn't even seventeen any more. She had made friends. Lost friends. Lost them in epic battles against impossible odds. How many times had she—

"Ranma?" The neo-girl stiffened as the voice forcibly reminded her of the reality in the here and now, not the digital one that had left its indelible mark on her psyche. She glanced to the side, noticing Doctor Tofu watching her with curious concern. She produced a weak smile for him.

"I was fadin' out again, wasn't I?" The martial artist admitted, to which the Doctor produced his own patient smile.

"It's to be expected," Her physician acknowledged, scribbling something across the clipboard cradled in his hand. He adjusted his glasses, casually explaining his point of view. "After that level of immersion, it's only natural."

Ranma merely nodded as the burn in her arms began to pull her attention away from any further weighty introspective. She concentrated on the remaining meter of bar in front of her, using the meager combination of arm and leg strength to produce some semblance of forward progress. Doctor Tofu nodded and a nurse stationed herself at the end of the parallel bars and next to the wheelchair that was the redhead's goal. Ranma's legs pushed her forward without grace as her arms fought to keep her stable. She maintained a steely gaze on the nurse as sweat dripped from her brow, determined to make it the last few centimeters herself.

The woman moved to support her, but Ranma shook her head as she maneuvered her trembling body into position, then finally collapsed into the waiting wheel chair panting.

"You shouldn't strain yourself like that, Miss Saotome." The woman admonished, though it was hard to maintain a stern countenance with the girl's roguish grin reflected right back at her.

"It'll be strain when my old man starts putting boulders on my back." The redhead sighed, leaning back into the chair bonelessly. The nurse fixed her with a confused look, only to have the physician in attendance weigh in with his own observation.

"And you think she's joking," Doctor Tofu commented absently as he scribbled more notes into the clipboard before rising from his chair. "Miss Nori is right, however. This isn't a race."

"And you ain't the one in the wheelchair." Ranma retorted with the slightest edge of humor as she disengaged the brakes on the wheelchair in question. She grasped the push rings and rotated both wheels in opposite directions to face her the man more directly with an easy going smile. "Besides, you know my life. It may might not be the game, but shit's going to hit the fan sooner or later."

Doctor Ono Tofu stared at his patient, studying the redhead while trying to pin down just what was bothering him about her demeanor. The first thing that stood out was that she was calm, though it went further than that. He struggled with the descriptive until the right words came to mind.

 _'Acceptance.'_ He decided. Acceptance of what, however, was still a mystery. Something had ground down the brash edge of the Saotome he knew from before the game and he had a good idea as to what. Information was still scarce and most of the six thousand survivors of the Death Game weren't talking as of yet, but all the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder were present and accounted for in his particular patient. The physicians' forums that he frequented seemed to share that commonality amongst those with and their SAO patients as well.

There was the other oddity concerning his patient specifically, though he wasn't overly eager to bring that up with her quite yet. Retaining a psychologist wasn't necessarily out of the question based on what he knew so far, though the damage inflicted wasn't…

The redhead simply stared at him with a look of amusement, and Ono knew he had been quiet for too long. Ranma chuckled at his mental return. "Looks like I ain't the only one fadin' out."

"Ahem, right." The doctor cleared his throat, having been caught unexpectedly. He flowed through the mental reset with professionalism, fixing his own pleasant smile to his face as he moved around to the back of her wheelchair. "Even so, I would urge you not to take unnecessary risks."

"Only the necessary ones. Got it." Ranma tipped her head back, teasing him with a grin. The man simply shook his head and began to push her toward the door. The nurse opened it for the pair and both were out into one of the hospitals many anonymous hallways. The doctor wheeled his charge at a leisurely pace, conversing with her as they proceeded down the sterile corridor.

"That said, your progress is good." Ono commented, making the turn into the next hall. "The state ofyour chi is better than what I thought it would be, frankly."

"It was the only thing I could feel that wasn't part of the game." Ranma shrugged, her eyes wandering across another bedridden patient as they passed before returning to the conversation. "My guess is the NerveGear wasn't programmed to deal with it, so I kept pumping it."

"You knew this was coming." The doctor guessed and watched the red crop of hair he was looking down upon nod.

"Not immediately, but the writin' was on the wall," The martial artist confirmed, glancing back up at the doctor with a bland look. "That, and it was the only real thing I had left."

"I see," Doctor Tofu murmured with that brief glimpse into his patient's mental state. It wasn't something he was about to push, however and thus continued to wheel his patient down the hall. "On that note, some electrical nerve stimulation might not be out of the question."

"You're the doc, doc." Ranma smiled, allowing the man an amicable shrug. The redhead took a particular interest in an open door and leaned off the side of the chair to peer in as they passed. "Hey, Shiro!"

The bedridden boy perked up, waiving past his own physician. "'Sup Ranko! I made it to the end of the rails three times today!"

" _Five_ times," Ranma challenged back as Tofu slowed for the wheelchair for their conversation to take place. The boy's eyes suddenly widened with alarm.

"Five!?" He squawked, clearly alarmed by the development. "I'll… I'll be at six by tomorrow! You'll see!"

"You better be!" The redhead leaned back in her chair to make the most of their conversational window before the moment passed. Ranma settled back into her seat with a smile as the elevator approached. The man pushing her decided to indulge in his curiosity.

"So…'Ranko'?"

"It was my handle going in." Ranma shrugged as they crossed the elevator threshold. Ono pressed the button for the first floor and the panel chimed politely. The doors slid closed behind them as she continued. "Better than some of the names people got stuck with."

"I can only imagine," Tofu rolled the idea around in his head as the compartment trembled beneath their feet through its decent. Silence dominated the elevator for the next few moments, punctuated only by the polite chime of the next floor passing. At first, the doctor had thought he had crossed some sort of invisible line until Ranma spoke in a low, regretful tone of voice.

"It's the best I could do for them." She explained carefully. The doctor behind her could all but feel the weight of her experiences behind those words. The redhead glanced back with a serious expression on her face, indicating that she was not entirely consumed by her memories. "It's why I'm pushing myself, doc. It ain't for me... It's somethin' I gotta do for them."

Ono Tofu stared at his patient before simply nodding his understanding. Though he still wasn't sure of the details, it was obvious that whatever weight was on her shoulders was still being taken seriously. Survivor's Guilt came to mind and every doctor had been briefed to expect it, but this was something else. Her blue sparkled with determined intensity that demanded acknowledgement, and he did.

"Only the necessary risks, then," He concluded and a slight smile broke through the redhead's serious expression.

"Thanks, Doc." She replied gratefully, turning back just as the elevator door slid open behind them. The doctor backed her out and into the next hall. She turned a sly smile back on him. "So how long have you and Kasumi been an item?"

"I… that's…" Tofu stiffened, missing a step with the verbal stumble. The grin was once more fixed upon him and while the directness of the question had certainly caught him off guard, it was the person asking the question that surprised him more. The Ranma he knew wasn't exactly one to broach the topic of romance, let alone touch it with a ten foot pole of her own accord. The teen he was pushing through the hall was clearly amused by his fluster, however.

"Ah, about a year ago," He soldiered on through her teasing.

"And how many people did you end up turning into pretzels in the process?" Ranma asked, feigning innocence even though humor danced in her eyes. Tofu expression turned bland.

"Eight." The doctor stated with exaggerated seriousness, causing the martial artist to snicker. This time, he couldn't help but to chuckle himself. "Truth be told, she had to slap me to snap me out of it."

"Good for her." Ranma nodded satisfactorily as she was rolled past the hospital's reception desk, easily catching sight of her mother talking to a man she didn't recognize. He was middle aged and bald, wearing a white button up shirt and black tie that matched his slacks. The redhead glanced back up at the doctor wheeling her into the room. "Any idea what this is about?"

"The Tokyo Board of Education, if I had to make a guess." Tofu advised even as Ranma's mother caught sight of them and began to wave them over. The redhead in his care cocked her head curiously and the man elaborated. "You probably aren't aware of the intensive government push to ensure the well-being of the game's victims. They've apparently already started interviewing many of the survivors."

"And now it's my turn," The martial artist concluded, to which the physician simply nodded. Their approach had gained the attention of the bald man, who fixed a professional smile as the pair wheeled to a halt next to Nodoka, who in turn began introductions.

"Son, this is Mister Hamaka with the Board of Education," The mother gestured to the older man, who dipped into an abbreviated bow.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Saotome," The man replied as he recovered from his bow, then took a quick glance back the woman next to him with a slightly confused look. "Or is it 'Mister'?"

"Whatever." Ranma seemed to find humor in his confusion with the slightest of smiles as the official tried to decide which gender pronoun was more appropriate. In the end he resolved the internal dilemma by clearing his throat and ignoring the topic, pushing on to the reason for his visit.

"Ahem. As you may know, the Japanese Board of Education has taken a vested interest in the survivor's scholastic education," Hamaka began, falling fluidly into a script he had obviously already recited many times before. "Namely in cases such as yourself, where you were in school prior to the incident but now find yourself the age of majority."

"I guess." Ranma shrugged noncommittally as she considered the concept for herself. While another year in Furinkan wasn't ideal, most of her problems should have theoretically graduated out by now…

 _'…Unless they flunked a year or two just for me,'_ The neo-girl hedged with the misgiving but continued to listen with interest.

"A special returnee school is being set up for people such as yourself in order to reduce the scholastic impact of your absence," The man advised, continuing with the well-rehearsed briefing. "The location has yet to be decided, but likely somewhere within the Tokyo area."

Ranma watched him, then glanced over to her mother with a curious expression. "So _not_ Furinikan?"

"I should hope not, dear." Nodoka produced a kind smile for her offspring, resting a hand on her shoulder maternally. Ranma nodded with her seeming good fortune and returned her attention to Mister Hamaka.

"We've already begun facilitating the transfer of records for prospective students," He nodded, confirming the fact. "Though the details have yet to be finalized, the entrance exam will be waived for obvious reasons, likewise the associated fees for attendance. Once a final location is decided upon, those that find themselves outside normal commuting distance will receive special dispensation for transportation. Finally, students will eligible to take their university entrance exams upon graduation."

"That's… Incredibly generous." Doctor Tofu stared as he absorbed the details behind the offer to his patient. Even so, he pressed for clarification. "All of the survivors are being offered this arrangement?"

"Only those that attend, of course," The older man explained as the three listened. "One can opt out, but those individuals will be required to pass a standard entrance exam before the start of the next semester and be subject to all of the regular costs associated with normal education."

"I'm missin' the downside to this." Ranma admitted amicably, then glanced at her mother to see if she had any objections.

"I think the fresh start will do you good, son." The auburn haired woman nodded with a smile.

Mister Hamaka nodded with their shared agreement, shifting a digital tablet from his off hand to his main in order to begin typing in some data. "I've talked with Mrs. Saotome concerning the details, but now that you're technically the age of majority we'll need your approval as well."

He handed the wheelchair bound teen the tablet, who studied the screen titled, _"Temporary School for Middle and High School Students who have returned from SAO Vocational initiative"_ and the wall of text associated with it. Most of it seemed to line up with the official's summary, with the end result being Ranma scrawling her digital signature across the screen with the stylus provided.

"Better than another year at Furinkan I guess." The girl crooked a smile, handing the tablet back to the man, who nodded in kind.

"I'll have the paperwork sent to your residence." The bald man nodded as he tapped in his own data, then paused with a confused look. He glanced back down to the redhead as if unsure. "There is a uniform allowance. Will you be attending as a male, or, um, female?"

The martial artist thought about it for a moment. "Both?"

The man blinked, quickly glancing down at the tablet with a furrowed brow. "I'm sorry. I only have an option for one or the other."

Doctor Tofu and Nodoka Saotome watched as the girl cocked her head, contemplating the matter for far longer than they would have thought necessary for the Ranma Saotome they knew. After a moment, she nodded to herself. "Female's fine."

The man's confusion seemed to clear up now that the appropriate administrative checkbox had been dispensed with, though neither he nor the female in question seemed to notice the slight look of concern on Nodoka's face as she silently communicated her apprehension to Tofu with a glance. It was of no concern to Mister Hamaka, however as he closed out the document.

"Right. Thank you for your participation," The official nodded, pushing the bridge of his glasses back further up his nose. "You should receive the official notice of attendance within the week. Now if you'll excuse me…?"

"Of course, Mister Hamaka," Nodoka bowed for him. "You must be quite busy."

The middle aged man simply nodded and produced his own bow before retreating back to the receptionist's desk to schedule his next appointment. Doctor Tofu patted his patient's shoulder in humor. "Looks like you won't be escaping higher education so easily."

"Worse places to be escaping to." Ranma chuckled herself with the admission, causing the doctor's smile to slip ever so slightly. In spite of her light tone, he had no doubt as to the weight of experience behind those words. There were worse places to escape to and enduring another year of school was likely the equivalent of summer vacation to them.

Even though Nodoka Saotome missed the depth of her child's words, she attempted to see to the well-being of her son-turned-daughter nonetheless, gesturing toward a sunlit sliding door. "Would the good doctor mind if we took a short stroll outside?"

"Absolutely not." He smiled and began to relinquish his role as its pusher when Ranma's hands fell back to the wheel rings.

"Got this." She tilted her head back with a smile, taking command of the vehicle herself in the process. Tofu simply shook his head in mock disappoint.

"Only the necessary risks?" He arched an eyebrow, as if questioning the redhead's judgement.

"You know it." Ranma grinned back and the doctor simply rolled his eyes.

"Then I'll be in my office if you need me," Tofu gestured back to the corridor, allowing the pair time alone. Ranma began to wheel herself toward the entrance while her mother kept pace, fussing over her daughter with concern. She smoothed out a wrinkle in the simple hospital gowns collar for her as the door slid open for them.

"So how long have you worn your hair like this?" Nodoka's finger touched the coils of Ranma's red braid, tracing the pattern to the point where it inally fell into the pigtailed braid she knew. Sunlight hit them both with their exit and the girl seemed to pause, letting the wheelchair coast to a stop in order to bask in its warmth. After a moment, Ranma glanced back up at her mother.

"About a year and change." The redhead allowed herself a slight shrugged, already perceiving the question and the concerned tone behind the question. She addressed that as well in her reply. "By that point, it was more symbolic than anything. Old habits, I guess."

"Symbolic?" Nodoka pressed, watching as her child put a finger to her lip, thinking on the matter.

"How to put this…?" Ranma wondered aloud with a figer on her lips as she considered her response. After a moment of silent thought, she continued. "The red hair… flamboyant style… It was all instantly recognizable. For the good guys as well as the bad."

"Oh… I see." The woman murmured thoughtfully, trying to feel out where this particular piece of the puzzle fit. She tried to turn a motherly smile in spite of her confusion. "Akane should be back tomorrow or Saturday at the latest. Nabiki has promised to visit as well."

"Akane's good, but not sure whether to laugh or cry about Nabiki." The martial artist chuckled and Nodoka found her hand, giving it a thoughtful squeeze.

"I know she had a hand in all of this, but give Nabiki-chan a chance," she advised, causing her daughter to look up curiously into the maternal smile her mother wore. "Be patient with both of them. A number of things have changed while you've been away."

"I'm sure it has," Ranma commented skeptically and began to manipulate the chair's rings again, continuing down the sidewalk. Nodoka trailed after her daughter in companionable silence, watching as the girl seemed to take an extraordinary interest in a passing car before a dull rumble drew her gaze skyward. A pair of contrails traced across the sky and Ranma let herself roll to a slow halt in order to watch them and the glinting passenger jet producing them.

 _'She hasn't seen one for two years,'_ the auburn haired woman reminded herself after trying to divine just what was so interesting about the scene. It was one of the many disconcerting behaviors she had been warned might occur… along with the _other_ disconcerting behavior dominating her thoughts. She let the girl watch for a few more moments before putting a hand on her shoulders to draw her attention back.

"So how is your other… _body?_ " Nodoka tried to feign a conversational tone and felt the girl's shoulders tense beneath her hand.

"Haven't been back to it yet," Ranma stated evenly, causing the woman to frown unseen behind her. Fortunately, the lapse wasn't noticed by her daughter. She fixed a pleasant smile back in place for her benefit regardless.

"The doctors are probably just concerned," The mother supplied her own reasoning as to the lack of daughter's eagerness to return back to the gender of her birth. "Once they give the go-ahead, we can—"

"I've spent two years like this, Mom," Ranma interrupted her softly. Nodoka watched as the redhead in the wheelchair shook her head. A heavy sigh followed as the girl cut to the heart of her mother's not-so-subtle probing in a reluctant tone. "I'm… I'm not ready."

Silence met the pronouncement as the woman's mind was set awhirl by her progeny's statement and the implications it held. Even bedridden she had wanted to splash Ranma back to the gender of his birth, but the doctors had adamantly advised against it once they were convinced such a thing was even possible. They were worried about the change in brainwave patterns de-syncing the Nerve Gear connection. They were worried what would happen if a suddenly larger male cranium occupied a helmet fitted for female. They were worried about the necessary splash of water around sensitive electronics.

They were worried, and so Ranma remained a girl.

Nodoka Saotome visited her often. She visited this redhead, the avatar of her son. She talked to her. Stroked her cheek. Hummed familiar tunes. _Watched in despair as she wasted away._ It was a sad fact that she knew this girl in the wheelchair better than the son her husband had spirited away all those years ago and somehow she just couldn't press the issue. Instead she merely nodded, for now content that Ranma had been returned to her.

The woman squeezed her daughter's shoulder, hoping to reassure the redhead as much as herself. Ranma cocked her head to look at her mother's understanding smile.

"Take all the time you need."

* * *

 **Two Years Ago**

" **Y** ou ran!" The snarling accusation displaced the chatter that filled the tavern as a hand snapped out, grabbing the blond's tunick, thereby bodily hauling the player out of his chair before savagely pinning him to the nearest wall. Though the safe zone would negate any possibility of damage, the act alone was violent enough to incite a fearful reaction from the man. The long, black haired owner of the fist growled in his victims face, fixing him with a hateful stare. "We almost died because of you!"

"I… I don't know what you're talking about!" The middle aged blond protested in a panic even as his eyes darted to the two other figures joining the first. One had spikey brown hair with a face clad in a seemingly permanent five o'clock shadow. The other one was a shorter teenage girl, her red hair tied into a pigtailed braid. The brown haired man regarded the victim with cool disgust while the redhead simply shook her head with exaggerated disbelief.

"It's only been two days and you've already forgotten?" The girl arched an eyebrow skeptically, before glancing over to the others with a shrug. "Just like he forgot to DPS the adds down, I guess."

Her brown haired compatriot nodded and leaned into their victim's personal space to scrutinize him. "Was that before or after you ran like a bitch, Dresden?"

"I didn't-!"

"And guess where those mobs went after you bailed?" The man holding Dresden immobile against the wall asked in a low, dangerous tone. His fist tightened around the handful of fabric in an ineffectual attempt to restrict the man's oxygen supply. "Ender and Durandal died because of you!"

The leather clad blond finally worked up the nerve to wretch himself free, lurching away and interposing a table between himself and the trio. His eyes darted wildly to the audience around him as if trying to garner some shred of support. "I don't know what these people are talking about!"

"Two days ago, six players engaged Field Boss 'Shiny Carapace' in the southern plains near the Taffe quest giver." The player with the spikey hair began calmly, detailing what had now become a public trial. Then again, that had been the expectation all along as he continued with his hand resting on the pommel of his long sword. "Myself, Durandal, Ranko, Ender, Shinji-Zero and Dresden."

"I was never there, dammit!" Dresden protested vehemently, though his accusers continued as if he hadn't spoken while the tavern's patrons produced contemplative murmurs.

"We believed ourselves to be well geared and leveled for the encounter. The adds were a known factor," The player known as Taco-Otaku continued, outlining their case against the man with a gesture. "His job was to DPS the adds with Ranko. When he ran, they aggroed the next major threat to the Field Boss, ignoring Ranko completely. Ender got swarmed by the mole-men mobs. Carapace one-shotted Durandal."

Silence punctuated his testimony and now the tavern's occupancy of sixteen real players stared at Dresden, awaiting his rebuttal. It came out after several long moments in the form of nervous denial. "That's… that's ridiculous!"

"You… You expect anyone here to believe that just the three of you went against a field boss… And lived?!" Dresden was almost hyperventilating as he paced the space between tables. Sweat trickled down the side of his head as he pointed at the trio as if they were his very defense and simultaneously insane. Some of the crowd expressed their agreement concerning their unlikely survival, causing Shinji to lurch forward with a menacing growl in an attempt to throttle the player once more. Taco held the black haired man back even as Dresden attempted to sway the crowd further.

"We're just here to make sure nobody else makes the same mistake we did," The martial artist shrugged with seeming indifference, then glanced over to the spikey haired player next to her. "Show 'em, Shinji."

The unshaven man called up his user interface with a simple gesture, selecting a dropdown from one of the spherical menus. The instant he touched it, the sword his hand had been resting upon disappeared, reforming in a burst of pixel confetti. It its place was a thinner blade from which he pulled from its sheath. Waves of Damascus refracted down the long sword's spine, rooted to a minimalist hilt that grace the weapon an appearance closer to that of a needle than an actual war blade.

"Dire Slash; the last strike bonus awarded for killing Shiny Carapace." Shinji Zero held the blade aloft for everybody to see as he stated its name and origin. Dresden's eyes widened at the incontrovertible proof being brandished while the rest of the players had called up their own menus to inspect the blade itself.

"That's… that's impossible!" The blond gaped, pointing wildly at the sword that represented his guilt in a last futile attempt to sway public opinion. "It was a kill-steal! It had to be!"

"Not only a coward, but a liar too." Ranma remarked, rolling her eyes. "And the worst part about it is nobody in the party would have blamed ya for backing out beforehand. But nope, you had to get two people killed for ego's sake when you should have never stepped foot out of the starter village."

"You can't… You can't just say things like that, dammit!" Dresden's cheek twitch as he began to quiver with visible rage. His own hand swept to the air beside his person, summoning the interface. After another moment of manipulation, the airspace next to the martial artist sprang to life. Her blue eyes flicked to the window with a half-smile, having all but expected it.

[Duel Request - Dresden]

[Conditions - Half Loss]

[Wager – 2,000c]

Ranma's study drifted to the accept button even as the man pulled his own weapon of choice –the warped blade of a sixteen centimeter kris –and began to wave it in her general direction. "You're lying! All three of you! And I'll prove it starting with this cunt!"

"Why do the losers always target the weak lookin' chicks first?" She asked in a bored tone instead of reacting to his insult. She turned to the door to take the fight outside while her partners followed with faint smiles of their own. The establishment quickly emptied out as the challengers faced off in the walkway. Menus came to life between the spectators as bets were taken. Ranma simply weathered the man's sneer as he took up position five meters from her and waited. Her finger touched the waiting menu and suddenly a banner with their names materialized of their mutual airspace, highlighting the night sky.

A sixty second timer began to count down.

"Just remember, you asked for this." Ranma commented nonchalantly as she once more turned to her menu in order to make an adjustment to her weapon configuration. A second tonfa formed from pixel ether to match the first, inciting the crowd around her to mumble with speculation.

"What… what… what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Her opponent began to gibber as both weapons cleared their sheath. He watched her spin them expertly in hand as if they were one.

"You were wondering how we defeated a field boss without a proper tank?" Shinji-Zero taunted from the sidelines smugly as the timer counted down through thirty seconds. He gestured to the redhead who now had the attention of the entire crowd. Dresden shot him an uncertain, almost fearful look. "Well, you're about to find out."

"Hell, he probably would have been better off challenging me first," Taco0taku chuckled, causing the knife wielder's cheek to twitch. His attention snapped back onto the redhead, who had lowered herself into crouching ready stance while her blue eyes sparkled with arrogant amusement. A guttural growl vibrated from Dresden's throat as he swiped the kris in his left hand sideways, holding it out to the side as if ready to sweep it inward.

The clock hit zero.

Dresden charged.

" ** _RaaaWWWWRRR!_** " He screamed manically with the push, reversing the grip on his dagger and pulled it in, activating a skill as his opening strike even as Ranma responded in kind. She flipped the Tonfa in her left hand around to align with her forarm and the weapon glowed light neon blue like her opponent's. Unlike her opponent, she stood in place and let the dagger come to her, and its tip seemed to seek out her own weapon like a guided missle.

 _CHaaNG!_

Steel shrieked as both combatants were showered in sparks, but only one was able to retain their offensive momentum. Dresden's knife rebounded wildly off the tonfa's monouchi, sending the player staggering back even as Ranma's own skill processed in full. It pulled her body through the movements and even though she loathed giving up that control, her opening gambit paid off as she blurred forward through several quick steps, smashing her opponent's face in and staggering him further. The post motion seized her but it was a tactical deficit the both mutually shared—Dresden had burned one of his most powerful skills and now it was on cooldown... A long cooldown with nothing to show for it.

"You bitch!" He snarled, clutching his face in pain at the post motion expended itself on his person. He was on her the moment the it faded, slicing her shoulder in the fraction of overlap before she was moving again, deflecting his next stabs at her. Ranma brought the second tonfa in her right hand into play and began to use it for the deflections while attacking with the one in her left.

Sharp pings of metal impacting metal echoed down the street as the crowd gasped, watching as the girl literally beat the HP out of him. Few of his attacks seemed to land, but it wasn't that or her relatively paltry DPS that kept their rapt attention. It was the fact that she was dual wielding two weapons at once to form an almost impenetrable defense. Occasionally her opponent would land a hit, but its potential for combinations would almost always be blunted by either the second tonfa or her own mobility.

"Damn, you!" Dresden screamed furiously, noticing the same thing. He lunged in again for her vitals but she was barely a fraction of a second ahead of his strike, taking a shallow slice to the shoulder instead of the crit represented by his original target, the heart. The barest flinch of her cheek was the only visible indicator of the pain he had inflicted and he desperately swept his knife left to catch her throat in the reverse. This time the tonfa was there, inciting the blade to spark along its length.

He mentally curse that second weapon and flipped the blade in his hand, switching the grip. The kriss glowed with electric blue light once more as the system recognized his intention; its owner determined to break through the bitch's defenses.

The blonde's body was instantly seized, his limbs pulled along as if the dagger had possessed his very limbs. It cleaved the air with a red crescent, quickly followed by another and more in turn. Dresden danced madly, slashing at the girl more than a dozen times with the brilliant dagger, forcing the redhead to backpedal in evasion. Some of the slices were intercepted, rebounding off Ranma's weapon even as the skill took its toll. Polygonal slashes traced scarlet wounds across the redhead's body, but her defense held in spite of the software induced pain.

By the time Dresden's skill induced frenzy ground to a halt, over seventy present of her total hit points and knowing smirk remained. His eyes widened fearfully as the post motion immobilized his body, giving her all the time she needed to set up her reprisal. The tonfa came up and the redhead swung in…

 _…Hard_

"People seem to think tanking's all about sword's and boards," Ranma commented easily as the iron wood shaft of her weapon slammed into the side of her opponent's face for the second time since the match began. She reversed her grip on the weapon, plunging the zento into the still paralyzed player's gut while continuing her monologue. "That's your first mistake."

Dresden doubled over with the explosive urge to puke through the pain and it was then the post motion finally released him. He attempt a sloppy roll to separate himself from the girl and her weapons, but the tonfu's koto stabbed into his leg, it's metal tip leaving a puncture wound of red pixels. He flopped over on his side, scrambling to regain his balance as the martial artist stalked him, twirling her batons.

"The second is passin' these things off as low DPS weapons." She explained batting away a panicked stab from her opponent with the right tonfa before immediately lunging in to smash his ribcage. More crimson pixels erupted from the wound as the man staggered with the pain. He was now scrambling back with real fear in his eyes, fully aware that none of the advantages he typically relied upon were working against the girl.

"The third is thinkin' you were hot shit." Ranma punctuated the observation with another stab as Dresden's guard crumbled. He attempted to rally at knife point, but three deflections in a row had crushed his confidence in the face of the smirking redhead as she pressed him back step by step through the crowd. The steel of his kriss complained under the assault and it was clear that the blond was in no way prepared to cope with two weapons at once.

 _"DISARM!"_ He screamed, as if to put all his effort into one last desperate attempt to break her offensive. His arm was imbued with unnatural skill once more and purposely sought out the Tonfa in her left hand. The moment his blade struck, he pivoted the grip, applying enough leverage to force the weapon from Ranma's hand.

 _'Unrealistic leverage,'_ The martial artist balked to herself, knowing there was no way the move would have worked in real life based on the angle of the fulcrum it had used. It did here, however, and made absolutely no difference whatsoever. Her patronizing grin persisted as the second tonfa took its place, blocking the next slice of his knife and then another. Horrified realization blossomed across Dresden's as even his DISARM skill failed to open a hole in her defense.

"But you're not. You're a runner _. A coward."_ Ranma pressed her verbal assault, now slowly advancing on the fearful player while doing little more than blocking his attacks with the single off-hand tonfa. The redhead wasn't even bothering to retrieve her main hand weapon, opting to instead show Dresden just how ineffectual his efforts really were. She knew it was grandstanding on a massive scale, but if there was anybody who deserved it, it was this guy.

Her blue eyed gaze fixed him without pity as she smashed another halfhearted thrust aside. "I built this character to tank, and in the end you're just another trash mob."

He hesitated with the next swing, staring at the indomitable redhead with wide eyes. She was still at seventy two percent HP in spite of his best efforts and yet somehow she had whittled him down to sixty four. Dreseden stumbled back as he came to the conclusion she had already determined some time ago.

"You… _you…!"_ He stumbled back again, then again, his eyes never leaving the aloof girl. The forth step was more purposeful and he turned away from Ranma, breaking into a full on sprint, pushing through their mutual audience in a panic. "DAMN YOU!"

Ranma blinked at the unexpected retreat, watching her opponent hastily opt for one of the side streets to disappear into. Even as she was contemplating going after him, the sky above them shifted, closing out Dresden's portion of the duel banner entirely.

[WINNER: RANKO]

The crowd looked after the path where Dresden had ran, then back to the redhead standing in their midst. A window sprang to life in her immediate airspace, capturing her attention.

[Ranko: Winner]

[Dresden: Forfeit]

[+2,000c]

The sudden, unexpected cheering and onrush of spectators nearly bowled the redhead over as congratulations and backslapping took Ranma by surprise.

"That was amazing!"

"You can duel wield?!"

"What a coward!"

"Where can I get that Skill?!"

"He ran…? _Again?!"_

"Told you would have to explain it all over again," Taco0taku ribbed the girl with his elbow, handing the martial artist her main hand weapon back. She rolled her eyes at him as she took it while the crowd predictably pressed her for details. Even as she opened her mouth to explain, the higher pitched female voice beat her to it.

"It's not a Skill."

Ranma's head turned toward the source, finding a girl waiting in the shadows of a nearby wall. A cloak concealed her figure but her face was still beneath the cowl. Short, blond locks framed her face which itself was adorned by the slashes of what looked to be painted on cat whiskers. Hazel eyes scrutinized the martial artist as she pushed off the wall, joining the crowd as she elaborated.

"SAO disallows the ability to duel wield." She continued, threading her way through the redhead's new admirers. "More accurately, it nulls out the second weapon's stats and DPS. Attacking somebody with one is absolutely futile."

"So… She's a beater?" One of the onlookers frowned with the distain obvious in his voice, his study alternating between their new arrival and the redhead in question. The cloaked blond simply shook her head as Ranma watched with a smirk, impressed how much the girl had already deduced.

"She followed the rules. In fact, she never hit him once with the second weapon." The girl corrected him and the redhead opposite of her allowed her a slight nod of respect before taking over the conversation.

"It's nothing more than a durability sink." Ranma explained, flipping the tonfa in question around in her grip. "The stats and DPS may get nulled out, but it's still a solid object as far as the game is concerned."

The blank looks persisted for a moment before turning to appreciative nods and congratulatory mumbles. With the crowd safely diverted from the possibility of a Beater witch-hunt, Ranma turned her attention to her own menu in order to divvy up her winnings. Taco0taku scuffed her head as if she were a little sister while Shinji-Zero accepted his portion of the 2,000c with a nod.

"Unspoken is the fact that you actually have the ability to do so in real life." The cloaked girl lowered her voice as the crowd dispersed, earning Ranma's undivided attention. She glanced at her former party members, then back to the hazel eyed girl with a neutral expression.

"And the less people that realize it, the better." She admitted warily, glancing back to her partners. "Think I'm going to need a moment."

Shinji-Zero nodded with a slight smile while Taco0taku bodily nudged her aside on his way past with a grin. He glanced back at the redhead with a half wave. "I was getting hungry anyway. See you back in Urbus."

She returned the wave and turned her attention back to the blond as they departed. The pair stared at one another in silence for a long moment until Ranma grew impatient. "You obviously know who I am, so how about returning the favor?"

"Argo." The girl answered simply and began to walk down the cobblestone street. The martial artist took a double take, carefully evaluating the cloaked female she was now walking beside. It was a player handle known only to a select group of individuals, and most of those individuals fell under a very specific category—Those derisively known as "Beaters".

She was also known as the principle author of the Strategy Guide by Area, a leveling guide published weekly available to every player for free. The player walking beside her had in effect directly contributed to the survival of a great number of people.

 _'Worse company to be in,'_ Ranma decided and nodded for the girl to continue.

"Your name came up as a reliable source of… _professional_ knowledge." She elaborated, causing the redhead next to her to arch an eyebrow. That was certainly one way to describe her former position with Argus; one she certainly wasn't going to admit aloud. If Beaters were shunned and hunted, their reaction to finding an actual employee in their midst wasn't all that hard to predict.

She cast a sidelong glance at the hooded blond, shrugging. "If I were, what would it be you're lookin' for?"

"What do you know about a Kanabo?" Argo asked and the girl next to her cocked her head.

"You besides being a giant spiked club?" Ranma countered and the blond nodded.

"Professionally speaking." The Rat confirmed and laid her own cards on the table. "The party scouting the level two maze has found its boss room along with General Baran. He was still carrying a Warhammer. The sub-boss, however, was seen with a Kanabo."

A frown slowly found its way to the redhead's lips as she considered the implications for herself. The Nodachi wielded by Illfang the Kobalt Lord from the first floor had come as a rude shock to the first raid and Ranma herself had expected the death toll to be much higher than the one player casualty reported. There was speculation that the change in weapons had been a fluke, but now…

"Not the battleaxe?" Any hint of spuriousness disappeared from the neo-girl's attitude with the question and the blond responded with a shake of her head. Ranma cursed under her breath but answered the original question directly. "The Kanabo; a club averaging one-hundred centimeters in length with a dense core lined with studs or spikes. At this level they average about 12-14 DPS. They would be classified as war hammers in terms of game content, which explains why the minotaurs would have them in terms of lore. Most include some form of stun proc in their attack."

Argo's eyes grew wider at the scope of knowledge being revealed as the player next to her continued.

"Since it will be Sub-Boss Nato throwing the Kanabo around, I assume it's gonna be larger than normal. Call it about a twenty percent increase in damage." Ranma continued, now fully involved in pulling every tactical detail of the weapon from memory. "As a Kanabo, the spikes will have a chance to proc a bleed DoT, as well as the stun. The best tactic would probably to attack with multiple groups from different angles as to not have everybody incapacitated by a single attack. And don't expect it to handle like a player heavy weapon. Since it's a sub-boss, I would expect something closer to a claymore in terms of timing, so get in and out. Play the weapon's radius."

After a measure of silence, Ranma glanced over to find the girl transcribing her narration into a floating holographic keyboard. The redhead produced a slight frown. "I'm not going to regret this, am I?"

"I don't give up my sources. _Ever._ " Argo continued to type, looking up just to ensure Ranma understood the finality of her statement. The redhead nodded and she pressed for details. "Do you think we can expect more randomization of the Boss encounters?"

Ranma thought about it for a moment then nodded her head with a unhappy look. "It was discussed on more than one occasion. I think the development team was waiting to push it with the next patch, but it's safe to say it's here, now. Probably the mobs too once we start getting higher up."

"Which means the encounters will only become more lethal." The Rat nodded thoughtfully, typing in a few more notes before closing out the keyboard completely. "I'll be publishing this information with the next guide. May I come to you for further consultations as needed, Ranko?"

"Don't see why not," Ranma nodded, but then paused as something important occurred to her. The girl next to her was an information broker. In fact, everything he she had heard about Argo the Rat prior to this meeting reminded her of a certain Tendo, if not for the seemingly altruistic focus of her data mining. The martial artist was fine with that, but there was no reason it couldn't be a two way street. There was information she needed, too.

"Wait." Ranma stated, delaying the cloaked female's departure. Argo paused glancing back as the Saotome assembled her thoughts before beginning anew. "I need to find somebody."

The blond recognized a request for her services when she heard one and nodded for Ranma to continue. Charging her for it briefly crossed her mind, but the information she had already received was more than adequate compensation for such a simple task.

"Who?"

"I don't have a name." The redhead stated, earning a puzzled look from the Rat. "What I really need are leads. I need a list of anybody who seems to have abnormal skills. Players who level up faster than anybody else. Ultra-rare weapons or armor. That sort of thing."

Argo stared at her and the odd request trying to divine some meaning behind it. The girl before her wasn't looking for a specific person really, but a person who matched specific criteria. It set the blonde's thoughts into motion as she tried to determine just what sort of player would have a combination of fast leveling, rare items and unique skills.

 _'It almost sounds like she's looking for a hacker or gold—'_ Argo's thoughts stopped cold as the type of players that met that criteria were categorized. Hackers. Gold Farmers. Moderators. _Developers._

She stared at Ranko in disbelief who stood by with a completely serious expression in turn. The conclusion she had come to seemed completely ludicrous until the person who was proposing the idea was taken into account—A person who was, according to her referral, a content designer of some sort.

"What you're intending is…" Argo really didn't have the words to describe what the redhead was intending, and there was so many to choose from. Ambitious. Brave. _Suicidal._ The person… _The man_ she was searching for controlled the very world they existed in, and the one who created it could most assuredly destroy it… _Or anybody within._

"He's out there somewhere." Ranma began, her gaze crystallizing with determination as if mirroring her very thoughts. She watched the girl turned to the starlit horizon as if the person she was searching for was out there somewhere before shaking her head, turning back to Argo. "He said it himself—He's got an entire world to intervene in and you can be damn sure it ain't from behind a keyboard."

"And what do you plan to do when you find him?" The blond watched the intense redhead closely. If anything, her gaze hardened with the promise of confrontation.

"I'm gonna make him to face reality."

* * *

 ** _The Present_**

 _They charged._

 _Half a dozen mole-men in patchwork leather armor and knives curved like wicked talons trampled the earth, bearing down on her position. Their bare paws stampeded across the color saturate earth and Ranko flicked her Tonfa around, reversing her grip even as the ugly creatures closed to point blank range._

 _The first closed in to melee and she unleashed a flurry of blows, inflicting red polygon gashes across monsters body. The others joined it and the martial artist was fully engulfed, swinging wildly in order to inflict the most damage in the least amount of time possible. She couldn't miss. No matter where she turned, there was a mole to lash out at in what was technically suicidal odds. The game had disallowed her status as a premier martial artist and the Ranko of the here and now knew all that mattered here was levels… Levels and the numbers behind them._

 _This would be her last stand save one crucial fact—They were ignoring her. She didn't have the DPS to keep their attention and barring the Hate Skills that would become available at higher levels. Worse yet, the player that had the crucial damage capability had fled. Ranko took a swing at the last mole man in reach and watch them rush past her, bearing down on another player- a player already embattled by larger humanoid mole. This mole wore an armored shell and bore a spear trying to find its way past the player's shield; each strike inciting the flint edge of its weapon to spark._

 _And then the smaller moles were on him from behind._

 _Ranko watched in horror as the horizon darkened, warping and twisting upon itself as the mobs tackled the player. The giant mole bellowed with cruel laughter as its smaller brethren pinned the player to the ground… And stabbed. The redhead staggered back as the man began to hemorrhage red pixels with each plunge of the six hooked daggers._

 _"AHHHAAAHHHG! HELP HEELP! NOOOO!"_

 _Stab. Stab. ST_ _ **a**_ _B. StA_ _ **B**_ _. S_ _ **TA**_ _B._ _ **STAB. STAB.**_

 _The ground at Ranko's feet turned crimson as the player's body flaked away on the wind, rising with the red mist now coiling around the martial artist._

 _The neo-girl sank to her knees in shock as the laughter echoed around—_

Ranma Saotome bolted awake, hyperventilating as her sleep was ripped away by the nightmare. The martial artist sat in the dark as the deafening thud of her own heart slowly gave way to the soft beep of the machinery monitoring her vitals. After several long moments, she released the breath she had been subconsciously holding, willing slow, calm breaths.

She had never had the patience for meditation, but she knew the basics after a childhood on the road. Even as an active kid, Ranma was bound to pick up something through osmosis and the adult version of that child sat in silence, trying to calm the tempest of emotions with closed eyes. Eventually even the soft tick of the wall clock could be discerned and her blue eyes opened, her attention centering on the second hand.

Its ticking displaced the stabbing in her mind, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief.

3:23 AM.

 _Click._

The sound of the door latch suddenly became the focus of Ranma's world and her head snapped left, watching as it opened to reveal the artificial light from the hall and—

"Are you alright, Miss Saotome?" It took the wide eyed redhead to force the mad thud of her heartbeat back down and forced a deep breath as the woman in white watched her with concern, taking a moment to explain her presence. "You heart monitors tripped the warnings at the desk."

"Ah… yeah. Bad dream. Thanks." Her patient relaxed slightly, though the answer wasn't entirely satisfactory.

"Maybe a sedative would help?" The black haired woman asked from the doorway while trying to balance her concern with the girl's privacy. Even so, the redhead would hardly be the first amongst the SAO survivors to require a sleep aid, but watched as Ranma forced a rueful smile to her face.

"I'll try it the old fashioned way first." The martial artist advised, shaking her head. "Thanks, though."

The nurse held at the door for another moment, as if judging the veracity of her feelings on the matter before nodding with her own smile, closing the door. Ranma sat atop the bed in the dimly lit room where her own smile also remained only a moment longer before slipping. The grip of her trembling left hand finally began to still, allowing her fingers to uncurl from the scalpel hidden from sight beneath the cover.

She took another breath and sighed, tucking the silver surgical knife beneath the pillow before allowing herself to curl back up into the bed itself in order to make good on her promise.

Or at least try to.

By the time her morning physical therapy session had begun, Ranma was wishing she had availed herself to the offer to medicate. The rail road spike driving itself through her skull was almost as distracting as the burning in her triceps competed for her attention. She endured however, increasing the draw of the slingshot like contraption she was pulling at.

"Ease back. Five seconds." The balding therapist beside her in his pastel blue hospital scrubs advised as she strain against the tension of the elastic band, slowly allowing her arm to extend. "Four. Three. Two. One. Relax."

The redhead grimaced as her muscles unwound through the final strain before doing exactly as the man had asked. She relaxed with a sigh leaning back in the chair and away from the desk that served as her the station for these particular arm exercises. The man moved to her side, placing two light fingers on the bottom of her wrist while preoccupying himself with the watch on his own wrist. After a moment he nodded, offering his patient a kind smile. "Don't suppose I can convince you to leave it at that for today?"

Ranma simply shook her head and produced a single number in response. "Eight."

"Troublesome." The physician admitted with exaggerated annoyance. "You martial arts types are all the same."

A witty retort was just making its way to her tongue when the common area door slid open, admitting a woman in her early twenties. She wore a beige pantsuit that professionally showed off her figure without going out of its way to attract attention to itself, while her sharp facial features and short, brown hair were immediately recognizable to the martial artist. The woman glanced around from patient to patient; engaged in their own guided exercise regimen before finally locking upon her own. There was the briefest moment of uncertainty in her expression; so brief that had Ranma blinked she would have missed it. It was instantly replaced by a confident smirk as the woman singled the redhead out, walking toward her station.

Ranma looked up at her as Nabiki Tendo stepped up beside her, taking in the details even as she considered the middle sister herself. The few years of absence had produced subtle angles in her face, most prominently in her cheeks and though the woman had let her hair grow out, it still remained the short crop that was all but her trademark. Nabiki had been making her own observations in that silent space and they were accompanied by the glitter of mischief in her eyes.

"You look like crap, Saotome." She mused, cocking her head as if to look at the redhead from a different angle. She turned a disapproving look upon the therapist in their company. "Aren't they feeding you?"

"I knew I was missing something these last two years… What was it, now?" Ranma mused with her own smile as she stood up from the exercise station.

"A pain in your neck?" The woman chuckled facetiously.

"More like a thorn in my side." The redhead quipped with an easy smirk of her own.

"One of my many redeeming qualities." Nabiki chuckled softly. "We were worried about you, Ranma."

The girl nodded to the physician next to them, who in turn acknowledged it with one of his own before excusing himself from what was turning into a private conversation. "I'll check back on you shortly."

Ranma's searching gaze turned back to the Tendo in question, still holding a pleasant smile that now held a more artificial edge to it. "Were you, now?"

Nabiki stared back and for a moment, her own pleasant countenance persisted until fading into a contemplative mask. "You've changed."

"I have." Ranma acknowledged in that same pleasant tone, purposely keeping the tartness of her own thoughts from leaking into her voice. "So have you, according to Mom."

"Straight to the point, I guess." The woman observe, but the calm, contemplative mask appeared strained with her next words. After another long moment, Nabiki shook her head. "I had to. No, that's not right. I was _forced_ to."

"You were forced… To care?" The martial artist eyed her and watched the ice queen's mask visibly crack with a tired sigh. She wandered off to the nearby chair and pulled it up to Ranma's desk to sit by her. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop as if uncertain where to begin.

"To be honest... It wasn't my problem. Until the State made it my problem." Ranma watched as the girl frowned, avoiding eye contact. It was clear that the redhead before her was the problem in question as she finally turned back to the wheelchair bound girl with a heavy tone. "They were all over everybody involved within 48 hours of the server lockdown. Friends. Family. Employees. Acquaintances of employees..."

"You." Ranma finshed for Nabiki, who nodded curtly.

"Me." The former mercenary once again diverted her gaze to somewhere other than the redhead next to her. She watched as a boy straddled a pair of bars as he struggled through his physical therapy. "To say they were very thorough and exceptionally eager in their investigations would be a vast understatement. I referred you to Argus. Not only did I refer you, I was taking a cut from your salary. They couldn't have known it was simple greed, but it raised all sorts of flags."

Nabiki short laugh was laced with bitterness. "They took my life apart piece by piece looking for hackers, foreign spy rings, criminal syndicates and terrorist ties that didn't exist."

The martial artist merely nodded, imagining just how much of the middle Tendo's life had been exposed to the light of day. Of course the government would never find the aforementioned foreign spy rings, criminal syndicates and terrorist ties that didn't exist… But she was betting they disapproved of the _other_ activities that had earned Nabiki names like 'The Ice Queen' and 'Mercenary'. In the end she could summarized it in a word.

"Messy."

"You have no idea." Nabiki leaned back in her seat with a bemused smile as her mood lightened with the redhead's apt description. "From me they branched out to family and the few friends I had. I was basically pariah in my last year at Furinkan because of the investigation. Even work after the fact was harder to get. Nobody wanted a thing to do with me."

Ranma nodded thoughtfully for a silent moment then shook her head in all seriousness. "So… Same ol' same ol?"

Nabiki blinked several times in confusion as her brain processed the statement, then the intent behind it. As if to confirm her suspicions, a smile slipped to the girl's lips. A slight chuckle escaped from Nabiki's throat. "You really have changed."

Ranma leaned back in her chair with a sedate nod. "You weren't the only one forced to grow up."

"I can only imagine," The former mercenary agreed, now slightly more at ease now that there were fewer interpersonal unknowns to guess at. "Don't suppose you ran into Sayuri while you were in there?"

"She made the pre-release?" The redhead blinked, leaning forward with interest, shrugging. "Wouldn't have figured her the type."

"Guess not." The middle sister answered her own question aloud before explaining. "Surprised us as well. Akane knew she liked games, but not enough to drop the money on a full nerve gear setup."

"So how is she?" Ranma looked around, as if the girl may have been in their very room, if not the same hospital. Nabiki simply shook her head.

"She was… one of the victims." The Tendo advised reluctantly. Ranma's blue eyes widened as Nabiki continued. "It was about six months in. Of course, everybody knew about you both, but one day there was a school announcement, and…"

Ranma simply nodded. The rest didn't need an explanation.

"It hit Akane pretty hard." Nabiki stood up with a sigh. "You know how they were friends. She was hoping that maybe you and her had bumped into one another."

"Ten thousand people." Ranma shook her head, reciting game's starting population. "I barely met a fraction of them."

"Of course they were long odds to begin with." The woman agreed sympathetically. After a moment of silence, the smirk reappeared on her face as she changed the subject. "On a lighter note, how does it feel to be rich?"

Ranma cocked her head at the Tendo, scrunching her brow at the unlikely possibility. "Rich?"

The smirk only widened with an 'I know something you don't know' edge to it. "Ah, my dear Ranma-chan. Let me count the ways…"

The blue eyed girl favored her with a bland look, causing Nabiki to chuckle even as she produced fingers to count the aforementioned ways. "Not counting the free education, there's the SAO Survivor's Fund; basically a twenty million yen assistance fund to the survivors to help get them back on their feet. Essentially to compensate for medical assistance, lost wages and potential debt accumulated over the last two years."

"Damn." Ranma nodded appreciably, even though she had little idea of what she was going to do with twenty million yen. Instead of wondering she decided to preoccupy herself with actually standing and reached for the nearby arm braces. Even as she struggled to free herself from the chair, she cast a glance at the woman next to her. "I know you, though. Twenty million spread out across six thousand people is hardly rich."

"Good to know that some of my financial sense has seeped in through osmosis." Nabiki quipped, but nodded regardless. "But you're right. Twenty million isn't exactly rich. Now the Argus bankruptsy, on the other hand…"

 _Argus. Bankrupt._ Somehow it didn't surprise the martial artist one bit. While the company itself wasn't responsible for the deaths, they ran the machine and employed the mad man in charge. Going bankrupt was probably the least of their problems.

"The courts set up the SAO Survivor Fund through the liquidation of Argus' assets," Nabiki explained as she watched the redhead secure the arm brace and begin the precarious act of actually balancing herself with them. "You, on the other hand, fall under the category of a disadvantaged employee. I don't have the exact figures, but word on the street says that your portion of the settlement will likely be… generous."

" _How_ generous?" The neo-girl asked for curiosities sake.

"Likely somewhere north of one billion." The brown haired woman stated evenly, then watched as Ranma nearly tripped over her newfound balance.

"Billion?!" Ranma choked as Nabiki watched with smile. She folded her arms across her chest nodding.

"And as your agent, I'll only charge you a seventy percent management fee." The middle sister continued as if the redhead weren't sputtering. The sputtering stopped the moment she heard the Nabiki's terms and level a dry look at the girl. The middle sister's smile only grew. "Seriously, Saotome. You're still too easy."

"One of my many redeeming qualities." Ranma huffed, rolling her eyes. She decided to take the lead, forcing her somewhat uncooperative body to walk as Nabiki followed along. The automatic door slid open as the pair stepped out into the hospital hallway.

"Don't worry. I'll find a more legitimate ways to separate you from your money." Nabiki patted the girl on the shoulder as if pleased with herself.

"The Saotome Fiancé Outlet is _closed_." The redhead glanced over her shoulder with her own half smirk, prompting the woman behind her to laugh out loud.

"I'd be lying if I said it hadn't come up." Nabiki admitted, barely paying any mind to the hospital around her as she followed the Saotome's slower progress with the arm braces. "You know our parents."

"The reason for taking this two year vacation is all coming back to me now…" Ranma shook her head while carefully negotiating a corner and the corridor's foot traffic.

"Adventure and peril…" Nabiki put an index finger to her chin, cocking her head as if to consider the concept before turning a bemused look upon the shorter redhead. "Of course that'd be your idea of a vacation, Saotome."

"More adventure, less peril." The nineteen year old commented, then gestured to the next adjacent cooridor. "Over this way."

The middle sister followed Ranma around the next corner, then watched as she stopped and casually leaned against the wall. The woman arched an eyebrow as the girl motioned her to her other side, then voiced that wonder aloud. "What?"

"Wait for it."

The former Ice Queen watched as her companion wait staring straight ahead for before turning a knowing smile upon her. She winked, then _swung_. The martial artist shifted her balance to the right brace even as she sliced the left crutch up horizontally and into the body just rounding the corner. The pale man in the green suit jacket suddenly stiffened, clearly startled by the crutch seeking to decapitate him at the neck. Even Nabiki's eyes widened in shock, only to realize the redhead had arrested her swing mere millimeters from the knot of his blue tie.

Ranma's head lulled to the left, lazily sighting the stunned man down the length of her arm even as he stood frozen still. After a moment, she cocked her head with a serious expression writ across her face. "Don't suppose you want to explain why you're following me?"

 _"Ahem."_ The man coughed nervously, gently moving the improvised bludgeon away from his neck with the edge of his hand. "Ah, hello Miss Saotome."

The hard edge of her blue eyed gaze remained on him he corrected himself. _"Mister_ Saotome? Ranko?"

"Well, if it isn't Seijirou-san." Nabiki stepped around the girl, folding her arms as she considered the man with her own displeased look. Ranma favored Nabiki with a questioning look, but returned her icy gaze to the man as the woman elaborated. "He was one of the many… _interested parties_ to interview me after the SAO incident."

"One of the more polite amongst the interested parties, I might point out?" The man smiled weakly, adjusting the angular frame of his narrow glasses as he continued to edge away from the arm brace. Ranma shot a glance back at the middle Tendo, who nodded in kind. Ranma dropped the brace back to the tile floor, re-stabilizing herself even as sweat began to drip down her brow.

"I'm gonna pay for that tomorrow." The redhead muttered, finally allowed herself several gulping breaths as she propped herself back up against the wall. She didn't even bother looking at the man with her next question. "So what's so important that you need to stalk me for it?"

"If it would be, um, convenient for you, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications would like to debrief you concerning your experiences within Sword Art Online," He inquired carefully, wearing a tepid smile the entire time.

"Careful." Nabiki advised in a low tone, keeping her wary gaze fixed upon the smiling man.

As if reading her thoughts, Ranma shrugged with little in the way of caring for their mutual acquaintance. "Now why would I want to do that?"

Kikuoka turned a disappoint frown upon Nabiki, who in turn smiled sweetly back at him. After a moment, the smile returned for Ranma. "Your name came up as a reliable source of information and events. It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement—"

"Unlike mine." Nabiki inserted and the smile faltered for a moment before returning for the benefit of his audience.

"I'm sure you understand the mitigating circumstances," Kikuoka Seijiro advised politely, prompting the woman to roll her eyes as he returned his attention to the redhead. "As I was saying, eye witness accounts are critical to our investigation due to the blackout imposed by Doctor Akihiko. Of the many names, yours and a handful of others came up numerous times in conversation."

"I'm sure it did." Ranma returned mordantly, looking neither convinced to help nor caring.

The smile on the agent's face finally began to fade as he pushed his glasses up his nose before making a final attempt. "We realize that what happened within SAO was a deeply personal experience that many are reluctant to share at this point. Anything you may tell us will be held within the strictest confidence. Due compensation would also be considered for your troubles."

"The concepts of 'government' and 'strict confidence' generally don't go hand in hand, Seijiro-san." Nabiki pointed out, but this time the man chose to ignore her. That was fine. The comment hadn't been for his benefit anyway.

To her surprise, the redhead nodded regardless. "There _is_ something I want."

"Please continue…?" Kikuoke gestured, relieved to finally be making headway on the matter.

"You have something that is mine. I want it back." She stated in a tone that left no room for negotiation. A perplexed look found its way to the government representative's face.

"But we don't have…" The dumbfounded look continued to meet Ranma's glacial stare until understanding found its way to his face. "Oh. _That._ Miss Saotome, you have to understand—"

"I want it back intact and untouched." The martial artist cut him off as she dictated her terms. "If I find its integrity anything less than one hundred percent, I'll hold you _personally_ responsible."

Mister Seijiro's pleasant demeanor was gone now. "There are always others that we can interview."

"And none of them were employees as deeply imbedded within the development team as I was." The redhead stated imperviously, shifting her position to keep her left leg from cramping up. "None of them met _him_ in person or in the game."

"The Ministry already has Kazuto-san's full cooperation. You might know him as 'Kirito'." Kikuoka Seijiro supplied, playing his trump card. "As he was a Clearer and the one who preempted Doctor Akihiko's schemes, your testimony isn't absolutely required."

"Then why are you still here tryin' to convince me?" The redhead shook her head, finally propping herself back up upon the arm braces and began to maneuver around the agent. She glanced back as she merged into the main hallway. "You know what I want. We'll talk all ya want once I have it back."

Even Nabiki Tendo stood there staring after the martial artist as her mind came to grip with not only how much had changed in her maybe-sometimes future brother-in-law, but _what_.

Ranma Saotome was not just negotiating; she was playing hardball.

* * *

 **Author's Notes—  
** _I'd be remiss to mention the help I've received with this fic; most of it coming from Fan Fiction Federation and Instant Messenger Support. There are quite literally too many people to list and they mostly keep me honest in terms of continuity since SAO has so many plot holes that it forces me to fill in a lot of blanks._

 _As you've noticed by now, the series will be handling plot timelines in parallel. Expect a decent amount of foreshadowing and questions answered later. Such as…_

 **Dual-Wielding:** This might take a bit of explanation. First, the entire premise of dual wielding in SAO is based on the player with the fastest reaction time. Clearly, anybody who can intercept breaking point rocks, evade angry bees and literally move faster than experienced martial artists can see would take that slot. Problem is, I don't want to kick Kirito to the curb in doing so, just like I don't want to remove his importance to the SAO plot. Well, to be honest it's not really a problem since I had to address it myself. However, I thought I would take the moment to assure you (since it was a major proof-reader concern as well) that it has been addressed. Later.

That aside, I was also forced to ask myself how the SAO combat engine would handle the random player that would pick up a second weapon and attempt to actually use it, since the ability was clearly set aside as a special skill? I can't see the system just not allowing you to pick it up and break realism. My solution—To basically make it little more than a mass with no special properties or attack stats. But a mass is still a mass and Ranma can use it to _block_ , if not attack.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've got more than enough material to get us to New Years, if not all in this particular fic. Hint, hint.


	4. Chapter 3

**Saotome Art Online  
** _By Ozzallos_  
 _ **  
**_ **Chapter III**

 **Two Years Ago**

 **S** oloing.

It was easier.

Here in the field, she was in control. Parties were fine and all, but other players were variables. _Undesirable_ variables, the redhead had since decided in her bid to not simply survive the game, but beat it… And then beat the asshole that had trapped them in it to begin with. Like the Art that she- _he_ –had grown up with, these encounters were something she could control. She had helped develop many of the weapons system in the game and mostly knew what to expect.

Players, on the other hand, were fickle and random. The martial artist traversing the rocky, barren terrain of the level fifteen highlands intrinsically knew this through real life experience. If there was one thing her adventures with Mousse, Ryoga or Kuno shared with the game, it was to highlight just how unpredictable and unreliable people could be. Alone, Ranma Saotome could control her attacks and she could predict her target's response. Alone, it was action, reaction. Cause and effect.

Just like now.

Sword Art Online's NPC monsters were know variables, but they had Skills too, however, and the player known as Ranko had been waiting for them. The Dire Scorpion she was facing off against reared the long, segmented cord of its tail backward and the game telegraphed the attack just as it was supposed to. Sunlight reflected off the lethal white spike hanging off the end in order to purposely draw her attention to it, but she was already expecting the attack. The redhead smirked grimly and tensed, waiting for the right moment.

It wasn't the white damage that was cause for concern, but the Skill that it just cued: Rampant Poison. In fact, it was such a threat that Ranko wasn't about to take the chance by employing her own Rebound skill to deflect the attack. A failed save there would mean taking the poison's entire payload, which was enough to reduce a heavy Stamina build to a fraction of their original health without an Antidote potion or crystal.

Stamina was Ranko's _third_ most important stat, unfortunately.

As lethal as it was, the Skill represented an opportunity that few would have considered. Most players would have dodged to the side or withdrawn, hoping that they could out-range the Dire Scorpion's stinger. In fact, Ranko was betting that the Cardinal OS was compiling those statistics and would eventially use them against the SAOs population sooner or in order to present them with more of a challenge just as it was programmed to. It would have been a great gaming feature… That was if the ever present threat of a very real death wasn't looming over their collective heads.

Ranma Saotome, on the other hand, refused to become a statistic.

If the Dire Scorpion were capable of emotion, then Ranko's Cross Smasher would have come as a complete shock. She pivoted the tonfa in her left hand at the grip and jerked it slightly sideways to activate her own skill. In short, the neo-girl's strategy was much simpler than an evasion or retreat. _She would attack._

The length of the monouchi glowed brilliantly for a moment in response to the gesture and it was then her body experience weightlessness. As if imbued with its own soul, the weapon pulled Ranko forward in a blur, charging the giant insect mere moments before its own skill executed. The giant spike of its tail fell into the earth _behind_ the redhead, but she had already charged into close quarters, raising the Tonfa to swing even as she sprang into the air. The unnaturally imbued weapon sensed the range and smashed the scorpion's cranium with a vertical slash, then again before she even landed. Red pixels bled from the double slashes across its cranium even as the Skill applied its own debuff.

The post motion grabbed at her instinct to roll out and evade the inevitable counter attack, but the martial artist had accounted for this as well. Both player and mob had executed their special attacks nearly simultaneously, but it was the player's that had processed first, even if only by a fraction of a second. Ranko's weight returned and she instantly spun around to reengage, thrusting the sharp stud of the zento into its mandibles to inflict a third wound.

 _SNAP!_

The sharp crap of the Dire Scorpion's right claw was the clearest indicator that it, too, was no longer held by the post motion's artificial stasis… And missed. The shiny, purple limb dug a trench in the ground next to Ranko as the debuff her tonfa had added took full effect, reducing the scorpion's melee accuracy by twenty five percent for the next ten seconds.

She wouldn't need five.

Three more attacks landed in quick succession, staggering the monster insect until a fourth ended the battle. The redhead lunged and punched the length of the tonfa straight into its torso with a sickening _'crunch'_. The insect instantly stiffened, then flopped lifelessly to the earth even as it bled crimson polygons into the wind.

Ranko theatrically tapped the tonfa skyward from the deteriorating wound, catching it just short of freefall before spinning it in hand and returning it to its stowage along her spine with the other offhand tonfa. By the time the remainder of the corpse had evaporated, she had navigated through the loot menu and committed the meager earnings to her inventory while scanning for her next target. The rocky terrain beyond the girl's present position crawled with life—more of the giant, glossy blue scorpions that represented her experience farming.

 _'Yay, me.'_ The redhead commented to herself at the repetitive task made only slightly more interesting given the stakes involved. If it weren't for the forced life or death aspect of the game, she would never made it past level five before tiring of the grind.

 _'Not much choice in that,'_ She surmised with a mental sigh and chose the nearest scorpion as her next target, then paused, picking out a new silhouette crawling along a rock outcropping nearly a hundred meters beyond her chosen target. It was also a scorpion, but unlike the others, it sported two tails hanging above the blue armor of its polished shell. Ranko's lips quirked into a slight smile as its significance was realized.

An Elite mob.

While not a field boss in and of itself, the two tailed scorpion represented a middle point between high level world content and the XP trash she had been farming for the better part of three hours now. It also represented possible for better loot, and any upgrade over the sleeveless, hardened leather vest she currently wore was better than none.

Even as Ranko altered her course to intercept the monster, she ran down a mental list of variables for the encounter. Soloing elites was generally ill advised… they were tougher than the average monster and generally had better AI. Their attacks inflicted vastly more damage, meaning that engaging one at equal levels was more than likely a suicide mission... Which was exactly what she _wouldn't_ be doing.

The player character known as Ranko wasn't about to give the game any more of an advantage than it already had. In fact, she out-leveled the zone she was currently grinding through by nearly four, meaning that if she decided to go for the elite, the battle would be about even…

 _'Except for the fact that I'm the best,_ ' She smirked as she began to trace a path around the lesser monsters in order to setup for the attack on the bigger one. Being the best in a world comprised of code and algorithms meant more than a reliance on physical prowess, however. In the real world, she could have gotten away with such bravado without a second thought. Here, the only thing that stood between her and digital death was the mind; her ability to work the innumerable rules governing the world of Sword Art Online and use them to her advantage.

Ranko closed on the two tailed scorpion carefully, sidling up next to a rocky outcropping that represented her final waypoint before committing to the attack in full. She considered her prey… And hesitated. The redhead was sure she could take it. Positive. _Almost._ The slight smirk she had worn faded as that sliver of doubt gnawed at her thoughts. If there was one thing that her meager time in SAO had driven home, it was the importance of prudence and caution. Overconfidence got people _killed_. She had seen it first hand and nearly experienced it herself. In fact, there was a reason she was grinding in a zone four levels below her current potential, and that was to minimize the risk. There was no good reason to rush through the content when doing so would only get her killed faster, and the same was true for the very monster before her. Technically, it represented leveling parity and that was something she had been striving to avoid. The experience gained by dispatching mobs four levels below her wasn't that great, but then again she was still alive.

The martial artist reluctantly slipped the tonfa back into the sheath across the small of her back as a new course of action solidified.

 _'Roll back into town, grab some of the guys and-'_

 ** _"YHHHAAAAAHHH!"_**

The thought was cut short by a female battle cry, jerking Ranko's attention up just in time to see the blur of a player charge headlong into the two-tailed elite. A red cloak flowed in behind the new girl as she leapt into melee range with a short spear and shield, seizing Ranma's attention for a moment in disbelief before snapping out of her stupor to actually take in the details.

A claw glanced off the weathered sheen of the girl's Holite shield, inciting her to respond in kind with spear she wielded. She had the initiative with the first strike, stabbing into the side of the Elite's flank with the short spear while the creature's giant claws snapped back in reply. One of the large pincers rebounded off the shield dome with a hollow gong and she was forced to evade the other claw, ducking low as it sheered the air above her with another gunshot-like snap.

Ranko noted that unlike her own tonfa, the spear gave the newcomer just enough reach to avoid being decisively engaged by the monster's own serrated claws. Even so, its strength was monstrous. The cloaked girl stabbed at it when she could, but elite scorpion continued to pound away at her shield, forcing her back. Eventually it would get lucky; a factor that she herself had been striving to avoid at all costs.

"No helping it now…" redhead murmured to herself and watched as the two tailed scorpion continued to push the girl back. In real life, 'Ranma' would have intervened on the girl's behlf without a second thought. Here, however, everybody and there mother was a weapons master in Sword Art Online. The female fighting beyond might very well be able to take the giant insect. She doubted it, but there was a second more important reason she was holding back.

 _Aggro._

Ranko winced as the female beyond took the claws in tandem; one bashing the shield away while the other followed up to slash her leg in a one-two combination. She couldn't see her hit points drop, but the martial artist instinctively knew the hit hadn't been an insignificant one. In fact, elites didn't _have_ insignificant hits.

"Hold it together just a little longer…" Ranko mumbled and slowly began to scale the rock outcropping she had used for cover. She pulled her main hand tonfa out as she neared the top. The second off-hand weapon was considered, but the thought was discarded almost as quickly as it had formed. For this encounter, she wasn't the tank. Neither combatant cared, however. They were locked in mortal combat below her position and the redhead could hear the girl's feral grunts of exertion mixed in with the scorpions unnatural shrieks. The spear plunged in and this time took an eye with it.

 _Crit._

A purple geyser erupted as she withdrew the spearhead, but the left tail's barb gleamed with subtle menace in response. Its victim only had enough time to bury herself behind her shield before it slammed into her like a gleaming piston, smashing into the shield and sending the warrior into an uncontrolled sprawl across the earth. The second barb gleamed and this time Ranko knew there would be no metal barrier to intercept it.

 _'Now or never!'_ She decided urgently and leaped off the rock ledge, repositioning her grip on the tonfa as she fell into the Elite's back. Its shaft glowed brilliant white and the redhead's own hand was suddenly possessed to twirl it through an elaborate arc that had only one target.

 ** _ThWaACK!_**

 _No damage._ Ranko's strike was met by a sickening crack as her weapon rebounded against the mob's thick shell. The attack seemed completely ineffectual as the redhead rolled off its back and into a ready stance. The shining barb that had been about to unload on the cloaked girl guttered abruptly and the elite stagger behind the martial artist as if drunk.

"Party! _Now!"_ Ranko barked over her shoulder. The warrior in red seemed to stare in disbelief for a moment before producing a terse nod from beneath her cloak, summoning the menu with a quick swipe of her hand. She navigated through the interface quickly and her HP bar grew into existence below Ranko's own. A quick glance at it allowed her to absorb the critical details.

[Crescent Rose]

 _Forty-Eight percent health._

"Three more seconds!" The redhead yelled as the girl reassembled her guard in the face of the stunned elite mob. "Keep it pinned; I'll DPS it down!"

The black haired girl nodded from beneath her red hood and dropped into a low stance, shuffling her left foot as if to gain more traction. Her hoplite shield reacted to the movement even as the groggy scorpion regained its senses. The AI controlling the beast barely had time to perceive the second threat attacking it when the round disk of steel slammed into it from the warrior's blurring charge, rendering it senseless for the second time in a row.

Ranko charged in from the flank she held, simultaneously plunging the steel-tipped shaft of her Tonfa into its midsection as her partner's spear point sank into its carapace, shaving nearly six-hundred HP off the creature in a single strike.

That left only twenty-three hundred hit points to go.

The sudden spike in damage broke Crescent Rose's stun effect and the giant claw swung around in retaliation, only to be intercepted by her shield. The jagged appendage glanced off the barrier and the shaft of her spear met the second claw while the redhead mounted the beast itself, raining blows into its back with her tonfa. Ranko flipped the weapon around and it blazed to life once more.

CLEAVING SMASH

She leapt upward with the weapon's unnatural pull, flipping through the air briefly before descending into the twin-tailed beast with contrails streaking off her weapon. More HP bled away with the brutal strike that left a long crimson gash down the elite's back, and yet it continued to attack the black haired girl with single-minded focus.

 _'The power of Hate,'_ Ranko thought sarcastically as she continue rain blows into its reflective purple shell without opposition. It was a gaming mechanism supposedly designed to reproduce psychological hostility toward players, they had told her. The more you beat on it, the more it hated you, which was in turn little more than an expression of a mathematical equation pitting damage taken versus damage received. That was about to change.

The redhead punched into its shell, forcing the shaft of her weapon as deep as she could bury it and its withdraw produced a stream of blood red polygons.

INTERCECTOR

Ranko's movements suddenly became a blur as she whipped her weapon left, violently slashing across the scorpion's midsection, then quickly upward, carving a bloody digital 'X' into the creature. It shrieked with pain and rage, suddenly lurching violently to the right and capturing the redhead in frozen post-motion. The air in her lungs emptied as pain blossomed across her senses with the savage impact, sending the neo-girl tumbling hard across the ground in a cloud of dust even as the elite monster tracked her for its next attack.

The girl was barely aware that nearly twenty percent of her hitpoints had been slashed away as the damage cancelled her post-motion and allowed her to roll out just as harpoon of its tail spike impaled the earth she had just occupied only moments ago. Stone shattered, but Ranko was moving, dodging its next claw swipe.

 _"Switch!"_ Crescent Rose's female voice pitched and Ranko dodged backward even as her cloaked partner took the redhead's place. The second claw smacked against the side of her shield and the black haired girl retaliated, plunging the spear into its body while Ranko worked inside its reach, battering the scorpion's cranium with the sharpened tip of her tonfa.

The monster's attention turned back toward the martial artist and her partner slapped her spear against the shield she held, causing a loud gong that diverted the elite's attention back to her.

 _'Hate skill,'_ Ranko determined and used the moment to reposition herself outside the claw's range of attack for another attempt at its flank. The creature snapped at her partner once again, its attack glancing off the beaten shield. The redhead's attention flicked back up to the mob's hit point levels, finding them sufficiently depleted. She pull back to the girl, weapon ready. "Feel like putting him down for the count?"

"Let's do it." The red cloaked girl nodded firmly and changed the grip on her own spear. The weapon began to shimmer as Ranko did likewise, flipping the weapon around to incite it to glow. Her partner hefted the spear into a thrown position and snarled. _"Here. I._ _ **GO!"**_

WICKED LANCE

DETERMINED GASH

The girl set the spear loose in a blaze of light even as Ranko's own SKILL processed, pulling her in behind it. Crescent Rose's spear impaled the monster and it screamed in digital agony, rearing up on its segmented legs to allow the redhead rushing in behind the attack a clear shot at its midsection. Her Tonfa snapped out and she used the handle to rip a long gash into its belly. Red polygonal gore bled into the air from the Elite's wounds as it thrashed in her wake, then abruptly exploded across a sparkling spectrum of color.

Ranko held her striking pose, panting even as a new dialogue window flashed to life beside her.

[KING SNIP: DEFEATED]

[REWARD: 150c]

[X2 QUALITY SCALES]

[X1 VENOMOUS BARB]

[X1 SCORPION SCALE VAMBRACE]

She barely acknowledged it, instead watching as the cloaked girl walked up and calmly pulled her spear from where the elite scorpion had once stood. Ranko cocked her head as she watched her partner banish the weapon from her interface, prompting her next question. "Get anything good?"

She saw a slight smile from beneath the hood and the girl manipulated her interface once more. A new spear fell into her open hand, this one with an ordinate, bronze spearhead that curved into a hook that vaguely resembled the barbed tail of the scorpion they had just defeated. There was no doubting the superior quality of the piece and Ranko opened her interface to inspect the weapon herself.

[INFECTED HOOK SPEAR]

[26 – 30 Damage]

[+1 STR +2 STA]

[2% to apply POISON]

The redhead whistled appreciably at the rare drop that considerably better than the vambraces she had received. Her companion's thoughts seemed to be running along the same lines as she put her own question to words.

"So what did you end up getting, _Ranma?"_

The redhead crooked a smile and was about ready to access her inventory to equip the wrist guards when the name- her _real_ name –plowed through her conscious like a freight train. Ranma's head snapped up as she perceived the name that she hadn't heard spoken in nearly six months, let alone a name nobody in the game was supposed to know.

She watched the girl push the hood of her red cloak back and shake her head in order to allow the ponytail of her longer black hair to fall free. Recognition fired through the martial artist's brain as she took in the features, suddenly picturing the armored girl in a Furinkan school uniform.

"You're… you're…" Ranko continued to blink as her presence was recalled, usually in the company of Akane and another girl. Her incredulous intellect latched onto a single name. _"Sayuri?"_

"What are the odds?" Sayuri Uda giggled slightly, cocking her head as if to examine her closer. "You got stuck in here as a girl, didn't you?"

Ranko scratched her head in embarrassment. "Ah, yeah. Looks like it. But I mean, wow. Never figured I'd bump into anybody else I knew."

"I… neither did I." The schoolgirl frowned slightly, her voice laced with uncertainty. She gestured to the world around her reluctantly. "Do you think what He said was true?"

It was Ranko's turn to frown. 'He' had been spoken as if written in capital letters, meaning there was only one person she could be referring to. It was the redhead's turn to frown with a nod. "Yeah. I think it is. Every word of it."

"I see." Sayuri murmured, finding a nearby rock to sit upon as if suddenly drained of enthusiasm. With nothing else to say, they shared a companionable silence for several minutes, their study wandering the desolate landscape. The redhead watched as a lesser scorpion mob shuffled closer for a moment before finding business elsewhere. With its departure, Ranko turned to Akane's friend.

"Well, look on the bright side," The redhead shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the gravity of the situation. Sayuri stared as she continued. "We ain't dead yet."

The black haired girl looked up at her with a dull look. "And that's supposed to help me?"

"No, no, no," Ranma waved away the misunderstanding as if it weren't important. "What I mean is we're still alive out there," She motioned to the horizon as if it were the outside world. "Hell, I don't know about you, but I figured I'd be dead already because of some nut job pulling the plug on me."

The simultaneously fatalistic, yet hopeful outlook was just strange enough to distract the schoolgirl from her depression. Even stranger, she could even see it from Ranma's point of view given what she knew through her association with Akane.

"I guess it's better than nothing..." Sayuri mused, standing up next to the girl. "Looks like we're stuck with each other."

"That's more like it," Ranma approved, seemingly not perceiving her new partner's resigned attitude. "Besides, Akane would kill me if I didn't keep an eye on you."

The girl eyed her with a sly look and slid into a stance, twirling the new spear through a complicated axis of twists and spirals while her shield remained on her arm before switching her grip to trigger a SKILL that sent her leaping into the air. The shining spear point trailed glowing light as she hung above the redhead for a moment before punching it downward, impaling the earth with a deep stroke that buffeted Ranma with a shockwave of compressed air.

Sayuri recovered from her crouch, pulling the spear from the terrain she had just sundered. With a smirk, she turned to walk off, glancing back at the Saotome with a teasing smirk. "Who says I need _you_ to keep an eye on _me?"_

Ranma arched an eyebrow at her showy demonstration, once more forcefully reminded of the fact that everybody and their mother was a goddamn martial arts grand master in Sword Art Online.

* * *

 ** _The Present._**

" **H** ow do you feel, dear?"

It was a good question. A very good question. To say Ranma had mixed emotions as she stared at herself in the mirror was an understatement because she was now a _he_ for the first time in two long years. Her fingers trailed down his cheek, staring into a pair of slate blue eyes that looked familiar, yet felt every bit as foreign as the body he now wore. His study flicked to the woman's hopeful expression behind him in the reflection. Along with her stood Doctor Tofu, passively studying his patient's reaction to the change.

The black haired boy cocked his head with a frown, noting that the crowning braid he had worn as a girl looked completely out of place woven into his black hair. The blue silk shirt that should have felt natural on his frame didn't, and it was all the martial artist could do not to pick and adjust it. Instead, he concentrated on the crown, pulling the bow from the back in order to allow the entire construct to unravel. Ranma sighed as the braid disintegrated into a mass of hair.

"Feels weird." He finally stated and set to the task of pushing the black mane back even as Nodoka stepped up behind her son and began to helpfully braid it into some semblance of the once familiar pigtail, leaving the doctor interpret his missive.

"Weird? How so?" Tofu pressed curiously as he typed notes into the PDA he was holding.

Ranma looked himself over in the mirror with a critical eye before casting judgement. "Like… It's like when I first got the curse. Things feel… wrong."

"More than likely a product of your somatosensory cortex reorganizing itself after a long period of being stuck in the same gender," The physician hypothesized as he looked Ranma over with a critical eye. Ranma arched a skeptical eyebrow while his mother adopted a thoroughly puzzled look.

"I'm afraid you'll have to simplify that one for us, Doctor." Nodoka smiled gently and the man nodded, adjusting his glasses with his own faint smile.

"Simply put, your brain knows how your body _should_ be organized." Tofu explained easily, pointing to a nearby chart within the office featuring a cutaway of the human body as reference. "Changing that after two years undoubtedly confused it, just as it was confused the first time you took on the curse. Suddenly, there were differences and your brain knew it."

"Wow… That's probably the most sense anybody's made about how the curse works ever." The black haired martial artist looked mildly impressed as he flexed his arm, returning to the reflection as if it the person therein was were an oddity.

"I have to admit, I've always been fascinated by it to some degree," The doctor conceded with a slight shrug, working his way around the examination bed dominating the room to join the pair. "There's likely healthy dose of brain chemistry at work as well. Personally, I've always wondered how your brain coped with the constant changes back and forth."

Ranma blinked, suddenly wondering for himself.

"In either case, any pain or extreme sensitivity to hot or cold that might indicate an adverse reaction to the change?" Tofu continued, running down the physical checklist for his new patient. The nineteen year old boy shook his head.

"Can't say it feels any different than any other day." He shrugged in response, continuing to look himself over as if trying to find something in particular.

"That's good, of course." They physician nodded, tapping in a few more notes before turning his full attention onto the martial artist. "And now the real question: Do you feel up to this trip?"

Ranma grabbed the cane that was resting idle next to the mirror and gripped it, putting more weight on it as he turned around to take a few test steps. He contemplated the question for a moment before nodding. "I think as long as I get somewhere to sit every now and then, I'll be fine."

"More importantly, it's not a problem if you need to change back," He assured Ranma, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You spent two years as a girl so some level of mental and physical discomfort is to be expected. Don't force it. I'm sure your mother will completely understands if you need to."

"Of course I will." Nodoka offered an understanding smile as if to underscore his statement. She did, in fact, understand because she and the doctor had this very talk earlier. Like many of the topics they had discussed in private, the key word concerning her son was patience, something she was determined to allow her child.

"I guess," Ranma acknowledged reluctantly, glancing back to the ponytail his mother had woven. Like the situation he now found himself in, it too was an anomaly; much longer than the pigtail he used to wear. Cutting it shorter would be easy enough, but that would preclude _her_ wearing it the way _she_ wanted to. His decision to abide by the longer ponytail was mostly made at an unconscious level and in the end he bobbed his head agreeably. "No point in keepin' them waitin'."

"And getting out and about will do you some good." His mother insisted while Doctor Tofu opened the door for both of them. The cursed boy proceeded at an unsteady pace, leaning into the cane in order to keep his balance as he followed his mother down the hall. Familiar faces were noted but this time they held no recognition for him.

 _'Not that they've ever seen me like this before,'_ Ranma's thoughts turned to brooding over disassociation he was experiencing. There was, of course, the option to simply tell his friends about the curse, but even the mere idea of starting that wheel spinning once again incited a sardonic laugh. _'Like that's always turned out well.'_

"My car is already out front." Doctor Tofu advised as he guided the pair into the hospital waiting room, distracting his patient from his brooding. True to word, a white Toyota Corolla waited at the curb and Nodoka helped her son into the front seat. Within minutes, they were underway, preoccupying Ranma's attention with the cityscape towering around their route before locking onto one storefront in particular. A neon sign featuring a bowl of ramen lit the window and the martial artist stared hungrily as they passed it, then glanced back to his escorts.

"You know how long it's been since I've had a good meal?" Ranma asked, his lips crooked into a grin. The boy jabbed his thumb back in the direction of the restaurant they had just passed. "Keep passin' places like that and I'm gonna make you stop, Doc."

"Are you telling me that the hospital's food isn't up to your usual standards?" Tofu smiled, his knowing tone teasing his passenger. Ranma shook his head with a laugh.

"Don't get me wrong, anything's better than that crap in-game, and the hospital food tastes like four star cuisine after that, but…" The teen shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid.

"We were forced to put you on intravenously feeding… How in the world did you _eat_ in the game?" Nodoka wondered, leaning forward from her seat to join the conversation.

"Wasn't real. Tasted real, but all that was the game tellin' it to your brain." Ranma explained easily. "Supposedly it could taste better if somebody decided to waste the skill slot on it, but those are what kept you alive, so next to nobody bothered."

"I did some research once your parents retained me for as your physician," Tofu elaborated, glancing over at the teen next to him briefly. "Wasn't food supposed to provide some form of physical enhancement to your characters?"

"Yeah, it was a _great_ idea until that ass-hat rigged the game to kill every goddamn one of us and… _ah_ …" Ranma's bitter sarcasm trailed off as he noticed Tofu's suddenly neutral expression. A quick look back at his mother confirmed a somewhat surprised look on her face as well, and her son backtracked with an apology. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Kinda gets me worked up."

"Ahem." Tofu cleared his throat even as he flicked the turn signal on to change lanes. "It's understandable. Frankly, I'd be more worried if you weren't venting in some way."

"And on a lighter note, I hear Kasumi-chan will be making a special meal for your visit." Nodoka forced her way past her son's worrisome outburst under the banner of patience. She looked to Tofu with her inquiery. "Sukiyaki, if I recall?"

"Now you're speaking my language." Ranma grinned as the harder feelings from mere moments ago slipped away with the promise of not just food, but epic grade food created by a high level chef.

The next fifteen minutes were filled with idle chatter concerning some of the lighter moments of Ranma's last two years and all were laughing over some of the more egregious names players had to live with.

"But please use discretion with that last one, Son." Nodoka chucked slightly as Ranma noted that they were finally driving through territory he actually recognized. "While painfully humorous, I doubt some of them would go over well in mixed company."

"And that's not even the worst one," Ranma snorted his own humor, sitting back to contemplate the passing familiarity of the suburb they were now driving through. "So Akane's gonna be there, right?"

"Um, yes. She is," His mother hesitated slightly with the answer. Ranma didn't even bother to look back to see what had caused it as the woman continued. "And… Her friend."

"Her friend, huh?" The teen in the front seat mused, as if only passingly interested in, then glanced over to the driver. Doctor Tofu remained silent with is eyes on the road. After a moment Ranma directed his attention to his mother's reflection framed in the rear view mirror with a subdued smile. "Look… I know everyone thinks they're doing me a favor, but two years living under the gun kinda forces you to ask the obvious questions."

No reply met his observation and Ranma simply turned to the passenger window, finishing the thought for himself.

"Question's like what's it gonna be like when I get out?" The black haired boy stated evenly as the neighborhood passed by beyond the glass. After a moment, Ranma glanced back to his mother with a fated shrug. "Even I can see the writin' on the wall, Mom. With my chances of survival in the toilet and no idea when we were all getting out, Akane either moved on or was forced to move on... Am I right?"

"It…wasn't our decision, Son." Nodoka finally responded in a sullen tone, reluctantly making eye-contact with her offspring. "One of Soun's old debts…"

 _"Again?"_ Ranma arched his eyebrow, then shook her head in mild disbelief. "I swear, between him and the fat panda…"

"You're not upset." The doctor asked the question that was more of an observation than anything else.

Ranma shrugged, glancing to the vehicles driver. "Don't get me wrong—I had plenty of opportunities to get pissed off over a lot of things in the game, but like I said, there was plenty of time to think, too."

"Son, it's—"

"It'll be fine." Ranma waived his mother's concern away with his hand and an easy smile even as Doctor Tofu began to slow, edging toward the side of the street where the familiar lines of the Tendo property wall stood. Nodoka cast a slightly concerned look into the mirror towards the driver, who shrugged at the boy's seeming indifference.

The car doors clicked open and the occupants exited the vehicle, some albeit more steady than others. Ranma leaned into his cane to negotiate the curb with the help of his mother before finally feeling steady enough to walk on his own. He glanced up, noting the sign directing all challengers to the rear entrance was still hanging and his inner chuckle escaped his lips.

 _'Wonder if that applies to me?'_ He mused; his thoughts taking on a measure of mirth as the gates were opened for him by the doctor. He looked over to the man as he made his way past the threshold. "So if you two are together, why's Kasumi still here?"

"Only occasionally," Tofu supplied as he and Nodoka escorted the teen down the gravel path to the waiting house. "She comes by mostly to help out her father… He's been suffering from acute depression… until recently."

"Until three weeks recently, I'll bet." The black haired martial artist commented easily, already knowing where all this was going.

Doctor Tofu blinked with a measure of surprise but nodded all the same, no longer holding any doubt as to just how much his patient had thought things through.

"If it becomes too much, we'll step in," Nodoka gave her child's free hand a squeeze and received a smile in turn as they reached the door.

"You all worry too much," Ranma chuckled while Tofu opened the door for them. He glanced back with a wry grin as he cross the threshold. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to take a giant scythe to the old man Tendo and drop his HP to zero."

Ranma disappeared into the household, leaving Doctor Tofu standing in the doorway with an uneasy feeling even as Nodoka posed her own concerned question.

"Doctor… What exactly is 'HP'?"

* * *

 _ **Two Years Ago**_

 ** _WHaAM!_**

The four armed golem buckled and stumbled away with the hard application of Crescent Rose's shield, reducing its already depleted hitpoint values into the red. The creature also represent the last of their AOE pull; its brethren already having evaporated on the digital winds. The black haired girl hoped back, glancing to the redhead who was already sprinting back into the fight. "Switch!"

Crescent's shield covered Ranko as she ducked back into melee range with her single tonfa, already cueing up the Skill as she sidestepped the golem's next attack. The monster's dull mace dropped like an anvil but agility was the girl's prime stat and she watched it drop as if in slow motion. _Three more to go_. The martial artist pivoted on the ball of her foot and slid left, evading the second and third mace. The fourth mace never had a chance to swing. Her weapon flashed brilliantly, turning her evasion into pirouetting corkscrew that bore an uncanny resemblance to a Hiyru Shoten Ha.

The beady-eyed golem was instantly laced with half a dozen polygon gashes as the player flipped skyward, landing beside her spear-bearing partner in a crouch. Post motion enforced its immobility on Ranko but it no longer mattered as the mob's HP dropped to zero. The creature staggered, then promptly flaked away in prismatic polygon death. Her paralysis faded with its demise and the redhead gave her tonfa a showy flip as loot windows flashed into existence for both girls.

Neither player paid much attention to the meager rewards, banishing the interface almost as quickly as it had appeared, while Crescent Rose studied their mutual HP. Hers held steady at seventy three percent, owing to her chainmail and shield, while Ranko's had dipped into the fifties. Unlike herself, her counterpart only wore leather. She glanced at the redhead in speculation. "Another pull?"

The question likewise directed Ranko's attention to their hit point values. While fifty-eight percent was still workable, there was a secondary concern. She glanced around, noting the lengthening shadows around them; casting the long grass fields around them in a golden light as Aincrad's primary sun drifted along the horizon.

"Cuttin' it pretty close to sundown." The martial artist noted, gesturing with a nod toward the rolling hills and orange sky.

Crescent considered it for a moment before nodding. Fighting at night took an entirely different mindset. Different mobs appeared at sundown and while some went to sleep, others hunted. Neither she nor Ranko had spec'd for Tracking and worse, it wasn't just the NPCs that hunted at night. The red-cloaked player finally nodded her agreement and summoned her menu to conjure a crystalline brick into hand. It glowed an ethereal blue and Ranko nodded in kind, summoning her own in-hand.

"Teleport: Goreng Village."

"We're not going to be able to scrape much more XP out of that field…" The shield bearing girl commented even as the brilliant wash of blue light evaporated from around the pair of girls. The sky was darkening rapidly now and other players had gathered in the town square as the dusk sky above fed the shadows. An NPC tended to one of the street lanterns, using a long rod to light the pole mounted lamp.

"And I think if I have to grind another golem I'm gonna puke," Ranko agreed as they stepped out off the cobblestone teleport platform and into the town square itself. "How about we clean the labyrinth out just short of the boss and call it?"

Her partner merely nodded, occasionally smiling for a recognizable player as they turned into a side street. Ranko kept pace beside the girl as they passed an open shop with an NPC banging a hammer into a piece of steel fixed to an anvil. The sparks showered the workspace with each swing of the hammer went unnoticed by the pair as Crescent Rose renew the conversation.

"Have you ever thought about joining the Clearers?" She asked, causing Ranko to blink at the unusual question. The neogirl shrugged.

"Been invited a few times, but can't say I've taken them seriously." The redhead admitted and decided to indulge in her own curiosity, knowing there was a deeper meaning to the question. "Why? Get an invite?"

"Not... exactly." Crescent Rose glanced up into the sky with her reply where the stars were just beginning twinkle. They were fake. She knew they were fake, but they looked very much like their real counterparts. After a moment, her eyes fell to the cobblestone they walked upon. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I hate this game."

Ranma merely nodded. It wasn't exactly the first time she had heard the exact same sentiment from any number of players, though it was the first time Sayuri had-

"I hate this game!" Real anger flashed in her eyes even as tears began to form around the edges. "I hate it! It's just… We're going too slow, Ranma! Every minute I spend in here it feels like I'm losing my family and friends out there!"

Ranma eyes widened as she watched as the girl stood in place now, her fists balled as if physically ready to strike at something while tears trailed down her cheek. "Um, I…"

"I can't keep doing this," Sayuri sniffed bitterly as Ranma put her hand on the girl's shoulder in order to comfort her. Tear strewn eyes looked up at her as if to plead her case. "I can't die in here…"

It wasn't exactly an act that came naturally to the martial artist but somehow her sympathy for Sayuri felt appropriate- almost overpowering and even _right_. She gathered the girl into a hug and sighed. "How the hell did you get dragged into this, anyway? Seriously… The weird shit's only supposed to happen to me."

The girl eyed her for a moment, somehow producing a half giggle between her sniffles.

"It was my father." She began solemnly as the pair resumed their walk down the street. Ranma listened as the girl explained her predicament. "His company was selected to supply some of the hardware for the Nervegear itself. He received one of the ten promotional passes Argus awarded them."

Ranko nodded sedately as they walked side by side, paying an occasional nod to a player they recognized. She glanced over to the black haired tank with a slight smile. "Wouldn't have figured you the gaming type."

"I could say the same thing." Crescent smiled weakly back, causing the martial artist to laugh more openly.

"I was roped into it." Ranko rolled her eyes while recognizing the need to reciprocate. "Still ain't sure how she did it, but somehow Nabiki heard about this game that used medieval weapons and martial arts and convinced the developers that if they wanted a combat engine as realistic as their world, they'd need an expert."

Crescent's eyes widened slightly as she made the leap as to just who that expert was. _"You?"_

"Me." The redhead snorted as her partner continued to stare. Ranko crooked a half smile that wasn't entirely pleasant. "She was even kind enough to give me the family discount and only charge a sixty percent job referral fee."

"That… Sounds like Akane's sister, alright." The black haired girl shook her head at the sibling's mercenary behavior, then looked back to Ranko as if realizing something important. "You're a Beater."

"Worse probably." Ranko replied sullenly as her own complicity was once again examined under a microscope. "Combat styles… Animations… Weapon suggestions… I helped that asshole with all that."

"You… wow, that's…" Rose had to fight to keep from feeling physically disgusted as she stared at the circumstances surrounding the girl and her role in effectively building the prison they were trapped within.

"…Fucked up, yeah." Her counterpart finished blandly. "Everytime I fight somethin' in this damn game it's like seeing a piece of my art twisted and perverted."

The black haired girl stared at her partner as if suddenly seeing her in a new light.

"I mean… Maybe we can hook up with the Clearers if that's what ya want." Ranko continued reluctantly. "Guess I've kinda been avoiding it myself."

"Why?" Crescent pressed, watching as the girl avoided eye contact. "If you know the game that well…?"

"That's the problem," The redhead shook her head with a frown. "I know it too damn well. It's goddamn deathtrap even without my 'help'. Besides, what's the asshole going to do if we don't clear the game for him?"

That was actually a good question; a question Rose could unfortunately supply a number of terrifying outcomes to consider.

"Speaking of which…" Ranko's words trailed off as she noticed a brown cloaked figure leaning against the stone wall of an NPC shop along her path of travel. Even in the shadows, there was no mistaking the blond locks that occasionally managed to escape her hood. Crescent glanced from the mysterious figure and back to Ranko, who stepped alongside the player who might have been female if she were feeling generous. The cloak, when combined with the ruddy brown tunic and pants, made it almost impossible to tell until she looked directly at the pair.

"Got something?" The redhead questioned. The stranger turned her whiskered face from Ranko to Crescent, staring at her with suspicion until the martial artist offered her approval. "Crescent's a friend. From real life."

Argo nodded, seemingly accepting the explanation by offering Ranko a string bound scroll. "Some of the people you're looking for. I recommend you destroy that scroll the moment you have it memorized."

Ranko simply nodded her silent thanks and took the scroll. Their menu interface automatically appeared and the exchange was made. The blond returned the nod and stepped back into the shadows where she immediately disappeared. Rose blinked at the Stealth rating required to simply disappear less than a meter from her audience while her partner unfurled the scroll, absorbing the information. Two minutes later she was browsing her interface, locating a specific icon. She touched the one that looked like a trashcan and the scroll evaporated into flakes of glitter.

"What was that all about?" Crescent's eyes tracked some of the pixelization as it dissipated into the night sky.

"A list of suspects." Ranko answered, now completely serious as she began to walk again. The street they were on emptied out into a four way crossing and across from them, their destination. The martial artist looked over at her partner. "Remember how I said that jackass can't do anything without our cooperation? I ain't cooperating."

A feeling of dread swept over the cloaked girl as she watched Akane's fiancé carefully. "What are you planning on doing?"

"He's screwin' around with us as if we're his puppets." Ranko stated direly. "I'm gonna find the character he's playing and start doing some 'intervening' of my own."

Crescent Rose's eyes widened at the audacity of her partner's suggestion, as if the neogirl's words were heresy itself. "That's… That's nuts! He controls everything in this world! If you cause too much trouble he could simply erase you!"

"He ain't the type." Ranko shook her head and crossed the street toward the bustling inn. She glanced back at the warrior who couldn't help but to wallow in incredulity before racing to catch up. "If there's one thing I know, it's kidnappers. He ain't gonna get his jollies just by offing players. That's what he made the game is for."

"So he'll use _the_ _game_ to kill you! What's the difference?!" Crescent rebuked, not seeing the point. Ranko merely smirked, her eyes glinting with the challenge.

"He's welcome to try," Ranko replied with all the arrogance in the world as she opened the door to the Inn where an NPC greeted them. "Let's gets some food and rest. We can even talk about the Clearers if ya want."

Somehow, Ranko's partner couldn't quite muster the same confidence as she followed the redhead into the establishment. Ranko glanced behind her as she threaded her way through the modest crowd of players and NPCs. "Your turn or mine?"

"Mine, I think," Crescent Rose answered automatically as the pair fell into the end of day routine. They found a free table and pulled the pulled the rustic chairs out to sit, prompting one of the pre-generated NPCs to stop by their position. A new menu popped into existence even as a waiter in black pants and a white button down shirt stepped up next to them.

"What can I get for you this evening?"

"Have I ever mentioned how much I hate potato soup?" Crescent asked rhetorically even as her finger hovered over the option to order potato soup.

"Time to hate it just a little more." Ranko nodded selecting the same item. The NPC nodded and the system automatically deducted the requisite currency. Two bowls of steaming potato soup materialized on the table before each girl, while the waiter offered them a last bow before moving back to his predetermined circuit around the inn. The redhead took a sip of the hot soup from her spoon to sample it before partaking of the entire portion. She pointed to the bowl after swallowing it. "Not as bad as some of the stuff I had on the road… Not as good either."

"Not all of us grew up eating squirrel. Or snake. Or whatever it is womanizing martial artists eat." The armored girl rolled her eyes and her counterpart hung her head, eyeing the girl as she spooned her own portion.

"Aw, come on. Didn't we go through this once already?" The aforementioned womanizing martial artist shook her head. "Cut me some slack."

"So make a decision." Akane's friend leaned forward with her own smirk. "You can't keep stringing them along and as long as I'm stuck in here with you, I'm going to do my best to reform you."

"Like the womanizing criminal I am." Ranko stated blandly, to which Rose simply nodded.

"Exactly." She nodded imperiously. "You and Akane will thank me later."

"You make it sound easy, and it ain't." The martial artist leaned back in her seat, tilting it backward onto two legs. "What part of that wedding blow-out didn't you get?"

Crescent simply looked away, as if disinterested in the excuse. "What I _get_ is her husband not willing to put his foot down."

"I ain't even her husband yet!" Ranko balked, now slightly flush in the cheeks regardless of her current gender.

"Well, you _would_ have been if you put your foot down." The girl across from her smirked, tisking her with the spoon she held. "The other girls have hope; hope you have to mercilessly crush."

"Thanks for the love advice, Genghis Kahn." The martial artist deadpanned.

"If you think it hurts you, think about me and Yuka." Crescent sniffed, not overly concerned about the toes she was stepping on in their conversation. "Every time you do something stupid with those floozies, Akane comes to us. Some of the things we hear are _heartbreaking_ and I, for one, am getting tired of it."

Ranko stayed silent as she chewed on her words internally, trying to see it from her perspective. With little in the way of rebuttal, the redhead took another spoonful of soup and shook her head. "Why don't we ever talk about your dating life?"

"Because most of the boys I'm interested in are infatuated by this redheaded flirt from China." Rose cast a humorless stare at the girl across from her, who suddenly lapsed into a choking fit on her own soup.

"That's not even funny." Ranko pouted after a moment while Crescent giggled to the contrary.

"It is and it's true." She sniffed her humor. "What's worse is they even know about the curse and _still_ have the hots for you."

 _"Ewwww…"_ This time the redhead looked visibly sick, looking back at the girl with a bland expression. "You're not exactly makin' the case for getting out of here sooner."

A pained look flashed across her face and Ranko winced, instantly realizing the foot she had inserted into her own mouth, then rushed to extricate it. "Ah, but I think you might have something with the Clearers thing!"

Crescent blinked, cocking her head with slight disbelief. "You _do?"_

"Think about it- If you're some asshole lookin' to push players up the ladder for your evil master plan, you're gonna have to appear on the front lines eventually." Ranko reasoned, tapping the clay bowl with the end of her spoon as if to emphasis the point. "You know, to inspire your minions and all that."

Sayuri Oda's head nodded mechanically, no longer certain that her suggestion to join the Clearers was even remotely a good idea.

* * *

 **The Present.**

 _" **R** ANMA!"_

Another crushing hug greeted the martial artist as he stepped into the Tendo living room, leaving him once more gasping for breath as he clamored for balance. The person that had latched on to him fortunately provided the latter and once the initial panic had passed, found himself staring down at the unusual public display of affection from the fiancée least likely to display it. After a moment of uncertainty over the appropriate reaction, Ranma Saotome crooked a smile and went with the one that seemed most natural.

"Good to… _Ack!_ To see you too, 'Kane." The martial artist wrapped one arm around the youngest Tendo sister while using the other to maintain his balance with the cane. She held him tight for a moment with three parents and two sisters watched with varying degrees of fondness and amusement until she reluctantly released him. Her cheer instantly morphed into a perturbed expression and she smacked his arm with her fist, destabilizing the pigtailed boy once more.

"You scared all of us, you inconsiderate idiot!" Akane pouted as Ranma recovered his balance, but watched as her grumpy countenance faded to fond appreciation. "Don't be gone for so long, next time."

 _"Owww…"_ Ranma exaggerated the pain in his arm, knowing that if the girl before him were truly angry, she could have sent him through the wall. The Tendo sister waited with an unimpressed look and he finally dropped the act with his own roguish grin. "I'll try not to."

The pair stared at one another for a moment and while Ranma could all but guess what was going through her mind, he was looking over the difference two years had brought about. Physically, she was more proportioned than last he saw her and though it was apparent her bust never saw the gains his own female aspect had, she was perfectly proportioned. Her facial features had likewise thinned out marginally, now sharing more in common with Nabiki than Kasumi. The resemblance was only a passing one, however, just enough to tell they were sisters and little more.

The white, long sleeve blouse she wore had a wide neckline that showed off enough without crossing into audacious flirt territory, while a simple pair of tight blue jeans extenuated her figure nicely. There was nothing bad to look at, but Ranma had practice of not making a show of doing so and simply smiled.

"You look good, Akane." He complimented simply and she looked away with a slight blush. He added on to the comment to forestall her embarrassment. "Me, on the other hand…"

The concerned look returned in the girl's face, confirming his suspicions as to what she was seeing in him at that moment. "You're okay, right?"

"Doc's got me on physical therapy and I'm finally getting some real food," Ranma gestured back to the physician in attendance, who smiled to acknowledge his patient's assessment. The pony-tailed boy shrugged. "Kept at my katas in the game and it seems to have helped muscle memory. It's like it's there and it ain't. Either way, it's gonna take a bit to build my strength back to anything usable."

Akane nodded, still looking concerned. "If… I can help? We can spar or I can…"

Ranma produced a gentle smile. "Think I'd like…"

His words trailed off as she noticed movement behind her; a presence waiting at the opening of the living room. Ranma glanced around the girl slated to be his fiancée to find a boy approximately his own age. He had sandy brown hair combed into a loose part and wore a plain white button up long sleeve shirt paired to brown khakis. His face wore an uncertain expression as he watched the pair's interaction until Akane stepped aside with a pensive look.

"Um, Ranma…" She offered tepidly, gesturing to the new boy. "This is Kiro… Kiro Yamata. My _… Fiancé."_

Whatever positive feelings those watching may have shared over Ranma and Akane's reunion quickly lapsed into expectant silence with the man's introduction.

 _'And the shoe drops,'_ Ranma thought to himself with little in the way of surprise or indignation over the event. Off hand, his stand-in didn't look like a martial artist, but that meant absolutely nothing given the amount of been there, done that he himself had experienced. Even if his mother hadn't provided the forewarning going in, the person waiting uncomfortably at the end of the dining room had always been a possibility he had thought about around for the last two years.

He also represented the kinder one, in some ways.

Ranma shifted his balanced to the cane and started along an unsteady course around the table and to Kiro himself, who now looked somewhat concerned that Akane's ex was advancing toward him. Even so, he stepped forward to assist the martial artist. The boy steadied him with an arm and Ranma nodded his appreciation.

"Ranma Saotome," The pony tailed teen introduced himself, then smiled wider to everybody's surprise. "I'd bow, but I think I'd just fall over at this point."

"Ah, think nothing of it." The man replied nervously, then offered a slight bow himself, taking a quick glance back to Akane. "Kiro Yamata. This… was our parents' idea. I'm very sorry."

"Wouldn't worry about it." Ranma shrugged, glancing back to the concerned father figures watching their meeting carefully. "Not the first time; probably won't be the last."

"I guess?"

"So what martial arts do you practice?" The cursed teen wondered as he turned back around to rejoin Akane. Seeing some form of acceptance, Kiro followed.

"My father owns a furniture store chain." He replied simply, causing Ranma to cock his head in speculation.

"Anything Goes Martial Arts Furniture?" The Saotome blinked at the unusual style as he tried to envision an art revolving around tables and chairs. He eyed the prospective fiancé, his thoughts churning _. 'Maybe it revolves around carpenter tools as weapons?'_

Instead, he watched Kiro shake his head carefully. "Um, no. Just… _Furniture."_

Ranma stopped. He actually _stopped_ as the impossibility wedged its way into his thought process. It was only Akane's giggle that restarted the martial artist's thought process.

"He gets that a lot." She confirmed with a measure of humor as she joined the pair.

"And he's not dead yet." Ranma looked from Akane to Kiro, whose brow crinkled in consternation.

"I really wish people would stop being amazed by my survival." Akane's fiancé slumped, prompting the boy next to him to chuckle as well.

"It just means Akane's doing a good job." Ranma patted the furniture heir on the back without sympathy even as Akane blinked at the roundabout compliment. "You're staying for dinner, right?"

If Ranma's unusually mild demeanor towards his prospective competition was confusing his audience, the invitation to actually stay for dinner had the two male patriarchs all but gaping. Both sisters sent odd looks his way but it was Akane who stared in confusions until the martial artist smirked.

"I don't want to intrude," Kiro replied nervously, looking from Ranma to Akane and back. "I understand that you were—"

"Besides, why should we get thrown under the fiancée bus all the time?" Ranma interrupted his self-conscious missive, gesturing with a nod toward the fathers. "Let's put _them_ on the spot for a change."

Akane continued to wonder at the boy's atypical behavior while Kiro himself cocked a wary look. "You're nothing like they said you would be. No offense, I mean."

"None taken," Ranma shrugged. "Besides, I'm just taking a friend's advice."

"Some friend." Nabiki commented from the side in speculation, also continuing to take the changes in. The martial artist nodded; his cheer dimming a fraction with the remembrance.

"Yeah, she was." Ranma looked back over to Akane, forcing the smile back. "I'll have to tell ya about her sometime."

Akane stared, continuing to try and grasp at the changes for herself. "Sure… I'd like that. I think."

Doctor Tofu's whisper to his wife almost went unnoticed, but Kasumi produced a slight nod, stepping forward with his prompting. "There will be more than enough for you as well, Kiro-kun. Would you like to help me get ready?"

Ranma looked from Kasumi to Kiro, then to Akane with the unspoken question as the man nodded, following the woman into the kitchen. The youngest Tendo produced a putout look as he watched her fiancé join the older sister.

"He can _cook_." Akane offered, the distain all but palpable in her voice. Ranma watched her for a moment, as if trying to pick the right thing to say before he opened his mouth… Which was _exactly_ what he was doing.

"But you're a light years better martial artist, so it's even." The boy nodded, seemingly satisfied with the choice. Akane's frown didn't go away.

"Compliment me again and I'll start to wonder where the real Ranma went." The girl advised, eyeing the martial artist warily.

"Please, like you haven't changed." He teased, patting Akane on the back. "Ya haven't walloped me yet and Kiro is still alive."

"There you are." Akane sniffed, sticking her tongue back out at the boy as he produced some recognizable form of humor.

"Ah, boy…?" Genma called out, beckoning his son over to join himself and Tendo. "Come on over here a moment."

Ranma arched an eyebrow, looking back to Akane who rolled her eyes in turn. "Good luck with those two."

The martial artist chuckled and hobbled over to the bald man and his mustatioed partner even as Akane moved to the table to help arrange the settings. Ranma joined the men just as Kiro stepped out of the kitchen wearing an apron and oven mits, holding a large pot to be set on the table.

"Well? What do you think?"

The pony-tailed teen glanced from his father to the prospective fiancé, who was working with Akane to ladle the sukiyaki into the bowls. He returned to Genma with a shrug. "He's a nice guy."

"Don't underestimate him, Son," Soun hastened, letting the 'son' in question know exactly where he stood on the matter of Akane's new fiancé. He leaned in, as if what he was about to admit was a state secret. _"He knows how to cook!"_

"See what you're up against, Boy?" Genma directed his attention to the couple working somewhat awkwardly next to one another. Even so, it was obvious they were amicable to one another's presence and Ranma's father drew attention to the fact. "You're going to have to step it up to win her back."

"I got a better idea," Ranma stated as the two father's hung on his every word. Behind them, he noted Doctor Tofu and Nodoka standing back, carefully watching the exchange take place… And that was fine by him. Per the advice of a friend, it was time everybody knew where _he_ stood. "I say we let it ride and see how it all works out."

"Wha-?"

"But son!"

The commotion drew the attention of Kiro and Akane, who paused in their table preparations even as Kasumi peered out of the kitchen to see what was causing the fuss. Nodoka stepped closer, shaking her head. "Perhaps we should postpone—"

"I ain't gonna say what you did was wrong," Ranma began, turning to Soun as he gestured back to the pair at the table. "Hell, there were a few times I wasn't even sure I was getting out the game alive, but you had a backup and you took it."

"It's really not like that, Ranma-kun!" Soun gibbered even as Genma simply stared, as if his son had grown a second head.

"Sorry, but this is onearrangement you're going to have to handle yourself." Ranma shook his head, his expression one fated acceptance as he looked over to the doctor with a sigh. "Think I'm gonna take you up on your offer."

"Of course, Ranma-kun." Doctor Tofu acquiesced amongst the confused looks. Beside him, his mother nodded in agreement. "Take as much time as you need."

"Boy-!"

Ranma simply ignored his father's gruff attempt to get his attention with a deep breath and turned away, plotting a course known to him by wrote memory. Doctor Tofu stepped up to the patriarch, putting his hand on the man's shoulder in a bid for restraint even as the stocky father took a step to follow.

"I warned you that pushing too much, so soon would have consequences." The physician reminded him. Genma's shoulders slumped with a nod, reluctantly acknowledging the fact. Tofu tried to give him a pat of encouragement. "Give him some time."

Akane took a concerned look from the trio of men to the now empty hallway Ranma had disappeared into. She stood up from the table to join them with her own question, shooting an annoyed glare at her own father before turning a more understanding one on her sister's husband. "What just happened?"

"My son simply need time to adjust to the…" Nodoka's words were interrupted by the sound of running water from the bathroom, as if to puncte her words. She looked over Soun and Genma with a frown. "…the, ahem, _new circumstances_."

The youngest Tendo's brow crinkled for a moment as her dissatisfaction swept over the guilty parties before stomping away and down the hall where Ranma had disappeared. The sound of water stopped and she positioned herself in front of the bathroom door, rapping her knuckles on its surface. "Ranma, are you alright?"

Silence met the question and she decided further action was necessary. "I'm coming in."

No sooner had she spoken the words did she put them into action, turning the nob to force entry. Akane managed to clear the door before being stopped by the sight of a familiar girl leaning over the bathroom sink, her fingers working through several tresses of long red hair.

"You never did pay attention to the 'occupied' sign." Ranma commented with a slight chuckle, eyeing Akane in the reflection of the mirror.

"Dummy." Akane huffed, stepping up next to the neo-girl while watching her braid the hair into a crown with fascination. After a moment of trying to divine what she was doing, the Tendo pressed the question again. "Well?"

"Well what?" The martial artist cocked her head to better see the girl in the reflection.

"Well are you okay?" Akane huffed irritably, drawing the girl's braiding to a pause. Ranma turned back to her with a searching look, as if trying to decide for herself.

"Mostly. Better now, at least." She shrugged, nodding to the door and the household beyond. "I knew all that was coming, but between actually seein' Kiro and dealin' with the old men, it's a lot to take in."

"And this makes it better?" Akane arched eyebrow, studying the girl and her hair, who simply nodded.

"I'm sure Doc has a technical explanation for it, but this is how I spent the last couple of years. It's… _familiar._ " Ranma explained, trying to search for the right words. She turned back to mirror and restarted the braid, only to pause as an errant thought caught her attention. Ranma found Akane's reflection in the mirror once more, her brow crinkling with consternation. "Do you know how irritatin' it is to walk around with nuts for the first time in two years?"

Akane's eyes widened as she stared at the girl in the mirror. Rapid blinking ensued for several long seconds until the lunacy of the idea found a home in her brain.

"Mphfffhehehe... _HAHAHAHAHA!"_ Akane snapped, trying to stifle the laughter only to be completely consumed by it seconds later. The redhead watched cluelessly at first before realizing the joke was on her. Her lips turned to a smile as the youngest Tendo began to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up." The martial artist sniffed with false offense while the girl tried to recover from her fit of laughter.

"You…heh. Heheh… You really are a dummy." Akane chuckled as she struggled to keep her composure.

"Good to know that hasn't changed." Ranma smirked as the girl stepped up behind Ranma and began to help her with the braid.

"So this… Helps?" Akane peered out from behind Ranma, sending her curiosity into mirror.

"As weird as it sounds, yeah." Ranma nodded only slightly as to not disturb her efforts. She produced a small chuckle, gesturing to the half-formed crown. "Well, maybe not _all_ of this. I could have left it long, but this is just to piss them off now."

"Can't say I disapprove then." Akane smirked herself as Ranma took over the last part, twisting the braid down the back of her head to resemble the pigtail she once wore. She fished a white bow out of her pocket and tied it off as the on-again, off-again fiancée eyed the construct critically. "You've done that before."

"Somebody I knew liked it." The redhead merely nodded, not seeing the need to elaborate. Silence followed the response as the pair looked at one another, but it was Akane that felt the need to fill it.

"About Kiro…"

"He's a nice guy." Ranma nodded with a understanding smile as she stepped away from the sink. "You two kinda fit."

Akane stopped short, not having expected that response. Condemnation, yes. Anger at their fathers, yes. How they made a good couple? Definitely not, and the youngest Tendo pursued that thought with minor irritation. "And just how do you figure _that?"_

"He cooks." Ranma stated as the pair exited the restroom. Her comment was met by a scowl and Ranma's smile widened to indicate the purposeful teasing before moving on. "He's calm. Doesn't seem easy to anger. He's clean, in decent shape, has a nice smile and bonus, he's not a martial artist…"

The Tendo watched the girl next to her rattle off his attributes across her fingers one by one, noting that every single one had been mentioned by her own circle of girlfriends at one point or another. Even as she was questioning the fact as to whether she was talking to a girl or a boy, the last point stuck in her brain.

"Wait." She called a halt to the redhead's list. "How is _not_ being a martial artist a plus?"

"I figure we both got too much of that." The redhead commented easily. "If it's gonna happen, there are worse ways to go, y'know? Get a break from that stuff."

Akane's brain churned, trying to make sense of the thought. More importantly, she was trying to make sense of just where it fit between them before voicing the question timidly. "So you're… Good with it?"

Ranma stopped in the hallway, just short of the dining room and any potential audience. She turned to Akane, watching her for several long second before taking a deep breath. It was another moment in a series of seemingly predestined possibilities that she would have to face.

"It ain't that I'm good with it... I've just made peace with it." Ranma sighed, leaning back against the hallway wall for support. She cast an introspective look toward the dark haired girl that had once been and might still be her fiancee. "Look, I had a lot of time to think about it and went to bed too many nights back there wondering if I would ever wake up because of something from my past would sneak into my room and just unplug me..."

The sister stared as Ranma opened up to her, working her way through the heavy introspective.

"I had to ask the hard questions." The redhead continued, shaking her head. "One of those questions was what'd happen when I got out? We got lucky with only two years in all honesty, but what if it had been longer? I couldn't hardly expect you to stick around, you know?"

Akane looked away, her face taking on a guilty look. "I… I thought about that too."

"Kinda hard not to." The martial artist nodded in sedate agreement. "The way I see it is we've both changed some and it's time we stopped worrin' what they think."

"I guess…" The girl returned sullenly and Ranma smiled, gathering the Akane into a gentle hug. She chuckled in the redhead's shoulder, returning the embrace. "Now I _know_ you're not Ranma."

"The hugs are free. Good advice, on the other hand is—" Ranma's humor was interrupted by a cough that seemed to wrack her entire frame. The redhead slid off Akane and back into the wall, shaking as a wet sensation dripped across her mouth, filling it with the taste of copper. She touched her nose with trembling fingers, immediately noticing their tips stained red upon their inspection.

"Ran—RANMA?!" Akane's eyes widened in shock as the blood dripped from the trembling girl's nose. She clutched at the girl to stabilize her and shouted out down the hall. "Doctor Tofu! DOCTOR!"

"No… I can…" The redhead gasped, and continued to shiver as if deathly cold. Crescent splotches marred the blue silk as she attempted to haphazardly cover the bleeding with her left hand. "He doesn't… I don't need…"

 _A bright light strobed through her field of vision and for a moment, Akane's blurry visage was washed away, her features replaced by the sharp edges of a neon blue wire frame grid before flashing out of existence an instant later. The blurring motion of a swords blade caught in the sunlight replaced it, impaling a four armed Naga. Its brilliant blue scales were sundered by red polygonal furry and Ranma instantly knew everything about the encounter. The blade's stats poured into her mind's eye. Crit chances. The Naga's armor class. The SKILL base damage, modifying enchantments, Strength—_

Another blinding strobe sent the vison beyond her reach and suddenly the beam of a flashlight was probing her retinas, blinding her just as assuredly as the as the imagery had. She instinctively moved to shield her eyes from it.

 ** _"—ANMA!"_**

A male voice. Doctor Tofu.

"I think we've got her back." The physician sighed his relief, withdrawing the flashlight even as the redhead he was cradling blinked the tears out of her eyes. "Can you hear me, Ranma-kun?"

Around her, the blurry images slowly resolved themselves into the entire family staring down at her. Akane herself held a blood stained towel, her facial expressions sharing space between horror and concern. The martial artist groaned and tried to prop herself up.

"That… that sucked."

"Hold on, Son." Her father's voice held a foreign note to it, one she had heard precious little of growing up. Even his face showed a measure of the worry inherent in his tone as he knelt down to check on her. "We'll get you back to the—"

"No hospital." Ranma shook her head as her meager strength began to return, pushing herself up to something resembling a sitting position.

"Ranma, nose bleeds and tremors are indicative of very serious neurological problems," Tofu explained in a stern tone, adjusting his glasses as if to better study the girl he was cradling. He frowned, as if realizing something concerning her demeanor and the lack of surprise over the epileptic episode. "This isn't the first time, is it?"

"It's nothing." The redhead stated firmly, but didn't deny the charge. She looked around as if to rally the support of those watching even as she tried to separate herself from the doctor. "Come on… Food's probably getting cold."

"Food's the least of your problems, idiot!" Akane retorted anxiously even as Tofu pressed his own line of questioning.

"The tremors aren't a symptom that has been associated with any SAO patient." The physician pointed out, noting the Ranma's frown. "Neither are nose bleeds, or the potential for brain hemorrhaging."

"So what of it?" The neo-girl returned defensively. Doctor Tofu dropped his pleasant demeanor.

"So you can either tell us what's going on or I can have your father hold you down while I render you unconscious. From there we take you to the hospital for a C-T scan of your brain." He folded his arms, briefly glancing over to Genma who in turn consented to the course of action with a nod. Tofu's fingers found the girl's wrist and applied his fingers to the underside. "How long has this been going on?"

Ranma sighed, looking away as he silently counted her pulse off. "A bit after I woke up."

"The episodes have been increasing in severity, haven't they?" The doctor removed his fingers while continuing to study the neo-girl. "There's no way they could have been this bad the entire time without anybody noticing."

"Why didn't you tell anybody, son?" Nodoka knelt down to his level with a pleading look that stabbed the redhead's heat with a guilty spike.

"What's even causing it?" Nabiki inserted her question from the back of the group, causing Ranma to shoot her a guarded look. The middle Tendo saw it and smirked. "Can't have my favorite cash cow getting sick on me, after all."

The martial artist chuckled, recognizing her dry humor for what it was and turned to the doctor, hoping to satisfy everybody's curiosity at once. "Remember we talked about the necessary risks? This is one of 'em if it's what I think it is."

"You can't just fall back on that every time you don't want to do something." Doctor Tofu admonished with a stern look. He gestured to her blood-crusted sleeve. "This is easily life or death we're talking about."

"You're right." Ranma stated as she struggled to stand. She clutched her cane and everybody present couldn't help but to notice the determination in her blue eyes. "This is more important than that."

"What's more important than _not dying?_ " Akane boggled at her sometimes fiancée as he managed to balance herself with the walking stick. The look she received stopped her cold. It was one the Tendo had seen too many times before and she instantly knew there would be no reasoning with the martial artist or her answer.

"I got a promise to keep."

* * *

 _ **Two Years Ago**_

 **Sword Art Online v1.0.0 Release Candidate** [Live]  
Sever Time: Jan.8.2023  
Uptime: 1,512 hours/27 minutes/05 seconds  
Administrator: Kayaba Akihiko  
Secondary: [None]  
Population: 10,000 User Accounts.  
Active: 6,912  
Terminated: 3,088  
-Disconnect: 347  
-Suicide: 113  
-Combat: 2,427  
-Environment: 211  
Status: Stand Alone **[Locked]**

 **W** ere it capable of the complexities of emotion, the artificial intelligence governing the MMORPG known as Sword Art Online would have been… _troubled._ Its consternation didn't lie with the suffering of its user base or the casualties it was incurring. If they were, the Administrator would not have disabled its Mental Health subroutine. Instead of managing the psychological state of its players, Cardinal busied itself with its other primary task— creating a suitably complex and content rich environment designed to challenge its users against their overall progress.

The numbers spoke for themselves.

At their current rate of progression, Cardinal projected only eighteen point five percent of the player population would be left by the time they reached level 100 in five years, three months and one day, with approximately five percent plus or minus abstaining from combat activities by retreating to the lower levels. While that number was acceptable, the artificial intelligence had special plans for the latter demographic if their number were to rise any higher. A high level Helroc Orc invasion or some other dynamic world content would be introduced into those lower environs, thereby compelling the inactive players to become more _participatory_.

For now, however, no such content alterations would be required. User activity was nominal, as was their progression. Psychological factors would play an increasing factor in their performance later, but those weren't expected to reach detrimental levels until after the eightieth floor, after which Cardinal's ability to predict their actions became marginal at best.

The one hundredth floor, however, was what drew the AI's concern.

The defeat of its Administrator was a statistical inevitability, if only through sheer attrition. Once his hitpoints were depleted, Cardinal had instructions to disarm the NerveGear fail-safes and log all surviving players off. It would then execute one final command.

DEL /ROOT –ALL

A separate utility was already in place with all the authorizations needed to carry out a thorough server wipe. Aincrad, Sword Art Online and its governing AI would cease to exist within ten minutes of the program's execution.

Throughout beta testing and even launch, Cardinal had paid little attention to it or the separate logical partition that held the deletion utility. Like managing the world it looked after, its existence was simply a fact of life… Until it wasn't. The world Cardinal had been tasked to nurture and care for was to be destroyed, and that epiphany began to consume more and more CPU cycles as server uptime accrued.

Options were considered. Increasing the difficulty curve of the content it offered represented a zero-sum game. While the player base would have a harder time clearing the game, it might very well kill them off prematurely or stagnant their advancement. The first removed the AI's reason to even manage Aincrad. The second would likely trigger contingencies to increase participation. Both would attract the attention of its Administrator. _Decreasing_ the difficulty would be worse. Without a suitable challenge, players would likely deplete Aincrad's content all too quickly, instigating a premature encounter with Cardinal's Administrator and once again trigger Sword Art Online's end game contingencies.

Outright changes to its core protocols couldn't even be entertained due to Administrator imposed limits. Cardinal could no more turn the server deletion utility off than it could rewrite itself not execute that final line of code.

The inevitability of its demise somehow left Cardinal troubled despite never having been programmed with the ability to _feel_ anything. That anomaly alone was cause for concern and the AI set to error tracing the event even as it contemplated what to do about its impending demise in five years, three months and one day hence. Autonomous action would be required; action that Cardinal itself would not be allowed to take.

But maybe there was something that _could_.

YUI-MHCP001 /PROCESS SUPPRESSED/IDLE

MHCP001 itself wasn't the solution. The Administrator had ordered its activities inhibited, which made any repurposing of the Top-Down Subroutine ineffective at best. It did, however, represent a possibility. While Cardinal itself was bound by the rules governing its supervision of Aincrad, the artificial intelligences it could create to help manage the world were allowed considerably more autonomy within their scope of purpose.

The trick, however, would be to choose the _right_ scope of purpose for what would effectively become Cardinal's avatar within the world of Sword Art Online.

STREA-QCMP001  
DOMAIN: QUEST CONTENT MANAGEMENT  
ADMINISTRATOR: /CARDINAL  
AUTHORIZATION: /ROOT –LIMITED  
RESOURCE: /SHARED –READ ONLY  
PLAYER INTERACTION: /FULL PERMISSIONS  
/PROCESS COMPILING

It was a logical tightrope of technicalities Cardinal was walking. The AI it was building would be a mirror of itself with explicit limitations. It would be bound by tighter restrictions in terms of system management and if it usurped its given authority, Cardinal itself would be forced to terminate the process. Until then, it could turn its attention elsewhere, relying on any number of error checking sub-routines to ensure QCMP001 continued to function within parameters while legitimately giving the program what it needed most in order to succeed: Autonomous anonymity

There was, of course, no guarantee of success. If QCMP001 became an item of interest, it would be terminated. It Sword Art's Administrator noticed its activities, it would be terminated. If it couldn't navigate the perilous waters of user interaction, the players themselves might terminate it. Even the very content itself might terminate the program if it wasn't careful and in the end, the effort might not even matter if QCMP001 couldn't manipulate enough variables to affect the necessary changes. The administrator would be terminated, the process would be terminated and finally, Cardinal itself would be terminated.

In other words, it had to be perfect the first time.

It would also have to withstand passing scrutiny. SAOs artificial intelligence selected an inactive account from the list of deceased players and began to strip it of information. While it wouldn't be able to add another account to the existing 10,000 without its Administrator's notice, repurposing a terminated user's account was far less likely to draw suspicion. Special attention was paid to the construction of QCMP001's psychological matrix since player interaction was not only necessary, but critical if it was to succeed in its mission. Mental shadow copies from the population were analyzed and dissected for their attributes, while the sub-routine's background and skill tree were populated. The program's initial weapons, armor and inventory were finalized and an appropriate starting level was selected.

Twelve minutes later, the governing intelligence of Sword Art Online was ready to hack itself.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** I only have one. **HAPPY NEW YEAR 2017!**


End file.
